


Battle of the Moves

by Tokiji



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Break Dance AU, Clubbing, Competition, F/M, Music, Smutt, hidden identities, starrycove I love you for making this AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6476641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokiji/pseuds/Tokiji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Akuma, AKA the newest club in Paris and holder of the long-awaited Break Dancing Competition. Each team has four members and the winner gets to go home with thousands of Euros. The only rule? Hide your identity!</p>
<p>The two favorite teams, Cataclysm and Lucky Charm, go head to head in this ferocious battle. Winner takes all and the loser goes home with shame. But what happens when these two teams train at the same building? Some peeking, yes, and a lot of late-night rendezvous. These two team captains are jumping between wanting victory and just plain wanting each other, and the thin line that separates them begins to waver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am head over heels in love with this AU and I just had to make a fanfic. Please drop some kudos and comments on your way out guys!

Two things had happened that day.

 

One, Nino was begging for everyone to do late-nights escapes from their houses to go clubbing. Two, Marinette was hot as hell.

 

It was a normal morning at school and Marinette was, for once, not late for class. She had woken up when her alarm clock fired off its first tune. She hadn’t spilled the milk. Her homework was perfection. She had a good hair day and her pigtails were in place a lot faster than usual. Walking through the hall, she expected the day to be all sunshine and rainbows. Her strides were tinged with happy skips and her bag swung in time with her whistles. Luck was in her hands, she thought.

 

She caught sight of blond hair from the corner of her eye. She jumped and instinctively scrambled behind a pilar.

 

Adrien didn’t notice her presence as he kept his attention on the book in his hand. He gracefully climbed up the stairs and smiled at a few students who bid him good morning. Still reading, he nudged their classroom door open and entered, letting the wood close behind him.

 

Marinette sighed before straightening up and adjusted her bag over her shoulder. Adrien, the son and only heir to a prestigious dancing academy owner, Gabriel Agreste. The academy itself was a high-class college for people who wanted to pursue a career in traditional dancing, waltz, tango, and ballet. Everyone knew that he excelled at all of them. Heck, he could even pull off the ballet classes and have the girls there running for their money and _still_ look sexy. Everyone also knew that he was the nicest guy at school, and yet she couldn’t find the willpower inside her to croak out a hello. It was ridiculous. He was her classmate for goodness sake. Sure, he was popular, smart, talented, hot, had a grin that could beat the Paris lights, muscular arms that could carry any woman’s heart, and eyes that could burn your soul in the sweetest of ways, but he was still a normal student. That was way beyond their world and universe. But a student nonetheless.

 

She took a long beath through her nose and followed his trail. She was going to talk to him beofre class started. She was going to ─

 

Alya’s banshee-squeal penetrated her senses like a knife.

 

Closing her ears, she watched as her best friend bounced up and down in front of her. Her glasses were hanging low on her nose that Marinette worried it might fall off considering how badly her friend was vibrating. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, clearly trying to hold back another squeal. She was looking at something on the wall. But before she could even glance at it, Nino emerged from out of nowhere and draped an arm around Marinette. “Dude, you made it!” He said happily.

 

“Um, of course I made it,” Marinette murmured uncertainly, “it’s _school_ , afterall.”

 

“Good, good.” He nodded. Marinette got the feeling that he didn’t really hear her. “Say, I got news for you! Tomorrow night, ten sharp, club downtown. You comin’, right?”

 

Marinette blinked up at him like he had asked her to swallow his sock.

 

“Let me ellaborate.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together gleefuly. “Ya see─”

 

“A Battle of the Moves!” Alya interupted. She bounded forward and hitched an arm at the opposite side of her best friend. “Can you believe it, Marinette? It’s happening!”

 

“Yo, Alya, quit stealing my thunder!” Nino barked. “ _I_ was gonna tell her!”

 

“Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, four eyes, _I’m_ her best friend and _I’m_ telling her!” She tugged her arm left arm.

 

“I got to her first!” Nino tugged her right arm. “And in case _you_ haven’t noticed, you’re a four eyes, too!”

 

“My glasses are way better than yours, ultimate four eyes!” Alya tugged again.

 

“Okay, _stop_!” Marinette yanked and moved so she was facing the both of them and well away from their aggresive grip. Rubbing the spots they had held, she continued sourly, “What is up with you guys?”

 

“A Battle of the Moves!” They both said in union.

 

“Yes, I heard it since Alya practically screamed it in my ear. But what is it?”

 

“There’s this sick club in town that’s holding _the best_ contest in Paris history.” Alya said. “You won’t believe who’s gonna be the DJ.”

 

“Yours truly.” Nino bowed dramatically.

 

“Really?” Marinette beamed and patted her friend on the shoulder. “That’s awesome news! No one knows music better than you!”

 

“Thank you.” He smirked. “I auditioned last week and finally got my first gig. It’s just for a few rounds, but still.”

 

“Trust me, once you blast them with the first song, they’ll be begging you for an encore.” She turned to Alya. “No wonder you’re in such a hyper mood. You must be so proud of him.”

 

“What?” Her expression turned perplexed before understanding dawned on her. “Oh, no, no, no! I was thrilled with the other half of the news!”

 

Nino shot her a look.

 

“N-Not that I’m not happy for you, Nino!” She hurriedly added. “Come on, you know I’m just as excited for you! But seriously, Marinette, I have one big question for you and you’ve gotta answer it right now, got it?” She nodded. “Alright. Ready?” She slid sideways to reveal a poster. The background was dark, painted with multi-colored highlights in the shape of graffiti. Being someone with a creative side, Marinette took the time to marvel at the art. There was a drawing of a few DJs, and she guessed the one with glasses was Nino, to her delight. At the corner was a disco ball that seemed to produce starry lights across the surface. Musical notes danced around the words, and indications like foot prints flowed alongside it. Finally, she let her gaze focus on the information it had for her.

 

_BATTLE OF THE MOVES_

_DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BRING HOME THOUSANDS OF EUROS?_

Her breath momentarily stuttered in her throat and she mentally forced her mind to race through the sentences.

 

_BREAK-DANCE YOUR WAY TO THE TOP AND BATTLE AGAINST OTHER TEAMS TO SHOW THAT YOU DO!_

_EACH TEAM CONSISTS OF FOUR MEMBERS, GENDER-FREE AND RANGING FROM TODDLERS TO PENSIONERS. PREPARE YOURSELVES A KICK-ASS GROUP NAME AND SIGN UP AT THE ADDRESS DOWN BELOW._

_THE RULES? SIMPLE! JUST DON’T TELL US YOUR REAL NAMES!_

 

Marinette couldn’t help raising a confused eyebrow at the last sentence. At the bottom it read: _The Akuma_. She guessed that it was the club that Nino had mentioned the first time. There was a date, a time, and specific instructions on how to get there.

 

“So?” Alya prompted. “You _are_ joining my team, aren’t you?”

 

“I never said that!” Marinette tried to look away, but the stern air around her made it almost impossible to do so. “I-I know we dance sometimes during lunch but─”

 

“Marinette, you are so good! Hell, you’re a demon when it comes to the dance floor!”

 

“She’s got a point, you know.” Nino shrugged.

 

“This is what we’ve been dreaming about since we first listened to hip-hop, girl!” She took hold of her hands then. “We could dance our hearts out! Oh, Nino gave me a demo of the music he’s gonna play and it’s off the charts! The beat, the energy, the atmosphere ─ you won’t even believe it’s real!”

 

“Alya,” Marinette’s shoulders slumped despite the roaring storm in her head. Dancing. Loud music. Freedom. If all that wasn’t enough to tempt her (and it absolutely did), then the promise of money had her drooling. Thousands of Euros? For doing what she loved? Was that sort of chance even possible? In what felt like decades, her heart soared. To be able to participate in that kind of event, she wondered about how it’d feel like. Letting her body move in time with a song, not caring about reality and just relying on her soul to guide her, it sounded like a miracle. But… “I have a bakery to help run.”

 

The other girl’s face fell.

 

“My mom’s sick. You know that. I can’t just run off on my parents to practice for this.”

 

“We can make up a schedule!” She insisted. “I’m pretty flexible with my time. We can find two more members who aren’t so busy either. We can make it work for you!”

 

“My shift is from the minute I get home from school until it closes at nine.”

 

“We still have lunch, goddammit! We can squeeze in a few sessions and─”

 

“What, fifteen minutes a day to practice? If we were just performing on the streets and our only rival was a mime, then yeah, that could work. But in this kind of contest? We need at least two hours of the day! Choreography, costumes, brainstorming ideas, training; it’s going to be a full-time thing and I’m just… not cut out for it.” When she saw the disappointment lingering, she clutched her hand in return and gave it a reassuring shake. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t join. You know I’d cheer you on. Dancing is your passion. You can win.”

 

And it was true. At the age of eleven, they had tried out a dance machine at the local arcade for the first time and it instantly became their most favorite thing to play. Before Sabine, Marinette’s mom, fell ill, they used to go every Sunday and spend their leftover money of the week to jump on the tiles for a few hours. At thirteen, they sought the guidance of YouTube and copied the moves of professional break-dancers all over the world. Alya would come over on the weekends to get some moves into their systems. It was great work-out, and the increase of stamina was an added plus for Marinette as she carried packs of flour around the bakery. Just this year, they managed to come up with their own choreography and most of the time it was impromptu. On the rare days that Marinette didn’t have to work, they went to the Eiffel Tower with a hat on the ground and entertained the tourists. Applauses would push them to do better and ignite a fire in them that they’d hardly show at school. The shouts of approval and awe would make them forget about their huffing breaths and pull them into a pool of satisfaction. Dancing was _both_ of their passion.

 

And yet, Marinette still couldn’t grab the thread of hope dangling between her eyes.

 

“You’re the best dancer I know.” Alya said softly. “You can’t expect me to sign up without you. I won’t.”

 

“I’m sorry, Alya. The bakery needs me.”

 

“It’s always the bakery, Marinette!” She growled before clutching her hair like her head was about to explode. “When are you going to allow yourself to have fun again? I know you’re having a hard time, but think about it! We’ve juggled our time before for the sake of break-dancing and we can do it again. Why not try it? You can’t just sit behind a cash register every single day!”

 

She was about to retort when Nino put a hand on both of their shoulders. “Okay, okay, time out. This was not what I had in mind when I asked you to join.” He said. “I just figured that it’d be sick to have the class to watch the show. And I’ve seen you guys dance. You’re good. It’d be even sicker if you sign up for the competition. But _this,_ ” he gestured at them vaguely. “Nuh-uh. No arguing. Just forget about the poster and be done with it.”

 

“This isn’t just about the dumb competition, Nino.” Alya fumed. “She hasn’t danced with me for weeks! She even goes as far as going straight to work during lunch break! She forgets to eat sometimes and I have to remind her every single night to get up and drink some water! She’s pushing herself so damn hard and I just wanted her to let loose for once.”

 

Marinette snapped her eyes to her shoes. She couldn’t handle the look in her eyes anymore. “I’m sorry.” She murmured weakly.

 

Alya whirled around and walked away.

 

Nino sighed dejectedly. “Sorry about that. She was just so stoked about this whole thing. She’ll cool down soon, I guarantee you.”

 

She forced out a smile and nodded. “I guess.”

 

“Hey, the competition still stands. Think about it.” He bumped her hip with his playfully. “Now, I gotta scat. I still have to invite as many people as possible. You gonna be okay?”

 

“Yeah. Go. Congrats again on your gig!” She waved.

 

Suddenly, she felt a rough hand shove her from behind and nearly tripped on her own feet. Chloe sauntered in, followed by Sabrina. “Ugh, excuse you,” Chloe sneered. “What gives you the right to stand in front of the door like that? I had to waste my precious time trying to get around you!”

 

“Whatever, Chloe.” Marinette glared back. “I was just─”

 

“Perfect timing, dude!” Nino cut in. “Guess who’s gonna be the big guy in the club tomorrow night! Me! Yeah, it’s me, and the mayor’s daughter would so come, right?”

“You mean that lame dance thingy?” She cackled. “I wouldn’t be caught dead watching some dorks in harem pants trying to do the worm shuffle. I mean, seriously, it’s preposterous! Sweating and all that gross stuff is so not my level.”

 

“Dancing is something that people can enjoy doing,” Marinette spat. “You don’t need to spend a single Euro to do it. But I guess you wouldn’t know ‘cause you’re practically bathing in it to see that.”

 

“Hey, don’t talk to Chloe like that!” Sabrina piped up.

 

“Sabrina’s right. Don’t talk to me like that!” Chloe stomped her foot and pointed a finger at her. “So a loser like you is going to participate in that? Oh gosh, if you were, I might just consider going just to see you humiliate yourself!”

 

“I’m a better dancer than you are, at least.”

 

Chloe threw her head back and laughed. “You? Better than me? Honey, I’ve been waltzing across the ballroom since I was in diapers! The difference between our dances is that mine has class. It’s something that people appreciate and think highly of whereas yours is just so…” she shivered dramatically, “Vulgar.”

 

“Why you little─”

 

Before she knew it, hands were restraining her from lunging. She squirmed and kicked, screaming incoherent curses. From the flame in her eyes, she could see Chloe’s frigid form in the doorway, completely paralyzed and, if she were to guess, fearful. An animalistic urge to claw at her was so great that she would have really done it if it weren’t for the multiple students who held her back.

 

Sabrina was the first to react. The redhead guided her friend away and over to their seat. “Get back here and fight me, Chloe!” Marinette shrieked. “I’ve had enough of your antics and I swear I’ll─”

 

“Easy, Marinette.” A soft voice spoke behind her. “She’s not worth it. C’mon, just leave her.”

 

“You expect me to bow down to her every time she insults me?” She grounded out. “She even went as far as insulting─”

 

Her sentence halted when she realized who she was talking to. Adrien stood there, worried and tense. He held up both palms up like he was surrendering to her wrath. “I know you love dancing.” He started. “And I get that Chloe crossed the line.” At that, he shot said girl a stern look. “But she’s a spoiled girl and her dad won’t let you go if you so much as touch her.”

 

“Stupid rich kid.” Marinette unconsciously mumbled. It was too late for her brain to stop her and she caught her mouth with her hands, horrified. “I-I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean you, I meant Chloe! You may be rich b-but you aren’t stupid! I was definitely not implying it to you!”

 

The bell rang overhead.

 

Marinette had never been so relieved for class to start. Uttering another apology to a confused Adrien, she sprinted up the stairs and slumped into her seat. Next to her, Alya pretended to be busy with her phone. Sighing, Marinette tapped her shoulder. “Don’t be mad.” She whispered.

 

“Not mad.”

 

“You so are.”

 

Class was dull and busy at the same time. Dull because Alya still wouldn’t speak. Busy because the extra amount of questions in their textbook drilled a headache into their heads. Marinette sighed halfway through the lecture, sneaking glances at Alya. Sometimes the other girl would mimic the gesture and they’d lock eyes for a split second, but that was it. No talking whatsoever.

 

She hadn’t been lying when she said the bakery needed her. Her dad already had his hands full with bread-making. Her mom had tried working just a couple of days ago and it ended with her having a high fever. It was only last night Marinette had seen her out of bed, preparing a small dinner for the family. No, she refused to let Sabine work overtime.

 

Looking at the poster again, he resolve wavered. A break-dance competition. Thousands of Euros. With a team of four, the money could still be split and she’d have enough to sustain her life for months. She could get the medical treatment Sabine needed. Sabine could be healthy again.

 

And the opportunity to dance again. God, she missed it. When the bakery was eerie, she’d grab her headphones and turn up her favorite songs. It wasn’t merely a few times where her parents caught her popping a few numbers behind the counter. She still loved to do it, she’s never really stopped, and she always sought any chances she could get to just let the rhythm flow through her veins. The sensations it brought to her body was better than any drug, and more addicting as well.

 

Though a part of her mind scolded her for being selfish. Dancing was just a hobby. Her parents needed her to focus on school and their family store. Those two were the only things that mattered. Dancing had to be third on her list of priorities.

 

The last period was wasted with her reciting song lyrics.

 

Dropping her head to the desk, she groaned. School. Bakery. Focus. Dammit, girl, focus.

 

Alya was up and out in a blink of an eye. She didn’t even get to invite her for lunch. Shouldering her pink bag, she followed after her into the courtyard. Alya sat with her legs crossed under a tree, sandwich poised in front of her mouth. She huffed and turned away when Marinette joined her.

 

The afternoon breeze swept her hair aside and brought a somewhat cozy feeling to her skin. She let her eyes close for a minute and laid back on the tree’s trunk. The sun shone brightly and bathed them in warmth. The dense sheet of leaves above blocked any unwanted heat. It was a wonderful day.

 

A faint sound echoed in her ears. From Alya’s phone, Demi Lovato sang the first words of Really Don’t Care. Opening one eye, Marinette watched as Alya bobbed her head to the melody. Occasionally, she would catch her leg shaking and her arms moving about. Chewing on her sandwich, Alya continued her game of ignoring her best friend.

 

Marinette bit her lip and tried to nibble on the cookies that she had brought to get her attention away from the music.

 

_Even if the stars and moon collide_

_I never want you back into my life_

 

Little did she know, her foot was already tapping against the grass. She ate another cookie and leaned her body closer to Alya. The other girl smirked but didn’t move.

 

_You can take your words and all your lies_

_Oh, oh, oh, I really don’t care_

 

 

At the last sentence, the two girls sang it together, giggling. Marinette stood up and extended a hand to her. Grabbing it and hoisting herself up, they left their things on the ground and twirled around each other once before swishing their hips in time with the beat. Hand in her hair, Alya snapped her other arm out and made a gesture like she was pulling Marinette with a rope. She in turn hopped sideways and folded herself forward, whipping her pigtails and letting her fingers scrape the air. Bringing them back to her hips, she crouched low and popped back up in a series of shakes and fluttering clothes.

 

Alya laughed, a sweet sound emanating from the inside, and jerked her legs in fast motions that brought her closer to the soil. On her knees, she fanned her hands over her shoulders, waist, and doubled over before flowing back up in one fluid wave of her body.

 

A crowd was starting to form around them. Some of the upperclassmen whistled and cheered. Their classmates ushered them to bring on a comeback as the final lyrics ended in a blur. The next song played, fast and rough and entrancing. The people around them clapped their hands and whooped as they broke out of their shells and brought the bundled up energy up and into their beings. They showed it in the way they swirled and pushed, jumped and swayed, and the way they panted for breath that they couldn’t need any less. Their blood boiled and their minds buzzed with every passing notes. Like Marinette had said, this was more addicting than any drug.

 

Alya flipped backwards, around and around, and landed flawlessly. The audience screamed and escalated their enthusiasm. Like a challenge, Alya turned her nose up and tweaked a single finger at her friend.

 

More than happy to oblige, Marinette brought both legs up from under her and landed on one hand, kicking her feet in different directions. When she fell, she swung like a blade and slashed at the space between her and the ground. Another clap of bewilderment and fascination. She cocked her head and grinned.

 

The second song ended. The field went still.

 

A boy clapped first, followed by another, and in less than a second the others boomed.

 

“That was awesome!”

 

“How’d you guys learn those dance tricks?”

 

“Can you teach us sometimes?”

 

“Encore! Encore!”

 

It was impossible for them to smile any wider. The adrenaline still pulsed in their heads. They still trembled with excitement. The high of the music and the adoration from their spectators put them at the edge of a cliff, and damn it to hell if they weren’t tempted to leap.

 

Alya held Marinette’s hand and bowed. Dazed, the other girl did the same.

 

Maybe the competition wasn’t a bad idea after all. The thought kept occurring to the point she literally couldn’t think about anything else. At work, she mixed up a few orders, accidentally writing cocoa instead of chocolate, and she got the baking soda and the sugar powder all switched up. To wrap the day up, she forgot about her chemistry homework.

 

It was half an hour before closing time. She didn’t even bother grabbing her textbook from upstairs. She’d just pull an all-nighter and get it done. In the midst of distress, Sabine poked her head from the hallway. “Honey,” She crooned. “Are you okay?”

 

Her head snapped up in alert. “Mom! Why are you out of bed?” Rushing over, she held her mother at the shoulders.

 

“Ah, I just wanted to check up on you.” She smiled. “So, how are things going at school?”

 

“I-I’m doing fine, mom. Please, let me take you upstairs─”

 

Sabine waved a dismissive hand. “You always say that. Tell me in more detail. How’s that boy Adrien?”

 

A blush formed over her cheeks. “I haven’t really made any progress. He's just so… magnificent. Kind. Charming. Oh, mom, you should’ve seen him today!”

 

“Yes?”

 

“He helped me this morning. I was kind of, uh, emotional and frustrated with a friend. He actually took hold of my shoulders!” To emphasize her point, she reenacted the scene with herself as Adrien and her mother as Marinette. She held her shoulders from behind and gave her a small squeeze. Sabine giggled heartily.

 

“The handsome prince did that?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

Sabine’s hand flew to her mouth, and Marinette’s first thought was that she was laughing again. But instead a cough racked her entire body, sending her in a fit of shuddering and wheezing. “Mom!” Panic seized Marinette, wormed its way under her skin and made her shudder. “Papa! _Papa_!”

 

She hazily heard her father’s heavy steps. She hazily saw her mom being swept off her feet and into her room. She hazily registered that she followed them inside.

 

Tom fussed with the blankets for a minute and gave his wife a pill and a cup of water. “Drink.” He murmured.

 

Gulping the medicine down, Sabine sighed. “Thank you. I’m fine now.” She touched his cheek affectionately. He grabbed it in response and kissed the inside of her wrist, an old habit that they shared.

 

Marinette was unmoving at the foot of the bed. Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill. She fisted her hands and bit her cheeks to suppress it. If she cried, stopping would be almost impossible. She rested a shaking hand on her mother’s ankle. “Get better, mom.” She whispered, her voice cracking at the end. “Please, just get better.” A drop fell on the mattress. She rubbed her eyes furiously, but it only made matters worse. A sob escaped her mouth, tiny and regretful, and the dam finally broke and she found herself in the arms of her father. He stroked her back and hair, but the sadness and pain kept welling up. Her chest felt like it was about to burst. The agonizing image of her mother in the hospital three months prior, an oxygen mask maintaining her consciousness and weird tubes hooked into her arms. She never wanted to see that ever again.

 

“Give her to me.”

 

“Sabine…”

 

“Go lock up the store. I’ll watch her.”

 

The door creaked open and closed. An invisible string pulled her towards her mother’s awaiting hug. She laid there beside her, struggling with her emotions while at the same time releasing the pressure from the day to Sabine’s shoulder. Warm and familiar, the woman embraced her and said nothing.

 

It was almost ten when she decided to get up and let her parents get some rest. She kissed them both on the cheek, lingering a moment longer for her mom, and bolted down the corridor to her room. Once the door was securely locked, she thumped her head back on the wood and exhaled sharply. It was clear now. Her resolve was as solid as a stone.

 

Picking up her phone, she punched in a series of numbers and waited. “Hello?” Alya purred from the other line.

 

“Count me in.”

 

She could hear the grin forming even with the distance between them. “I knew you’d cave. Let’s talk about the details tomorrow.”

 

That night, she couldn’t sleep. Well, it was a good thing because she could do her homework without any trouble. And the extra time she had was good to let her think, too. Yes, there will be lies. Her parents couldn’t find out or else she’ll never listen to another beat ever again. Undercover was the way to go. Sneak out, practice, go to the club, and come back home before anyone noticed she was gone. She was going to dance like her life depended on it. She was going to bring home the money.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys guess who the two other members are?

Marinette had no idea how many more hugs she could take before her own skeleton ejects from her skin. For the whole morning, she had been power-arms-wrapped by Alya and, though it was nice in a few ways, she really needed oxygen.

 

Untangling herself for the tenth time, Marinette crossed her arms in front of her. “I get it, I get it, you’re excited - ”

 

“Hell yeah, I am!”

 

“But we really need to talk about the competition.” At this, Alya’s brain snapped to life and she nodded, completely serious. “First… why hide who we are? It’s a competition, not a mafia party.”

 

“Nino told me about that.” Alya said. “They want to make it a point that all they’re gonna see is our dance and  _ not  _ who we are as a person. The judges also want to be fair so they’re not gonna know who their friends are in the dance off.”

 

Marinette nodded, the gears in her head turning with every word.

 

“If we reveal our identities in any way, the whole team will be disqualified. So, just for that, I thought of a way we can hide our faces!”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Paint. Or make-up. I prefer the latter, but greasepaint works too and you won’t waste too much time applying it.”

 

“Gotcha. I’ll get the paint on my way home. What else?”

 

“Just wear anything that you can move freely in. They don’t have a dress code so feel free to come in nude.” Marinette pinched her. “Kidding! And… oh yeah, before I forget, we’re gonna need some place to train. I found this wicked dance studio online.” She tapped her phone a few times before showing it to her. “It says that a lot of Paris’s famous dancers were born there! We gotta check it out.”

 

Scrolling through the article, she saw pictures of the huge building. It was tall and grand, the walls decorated with bright colors and splashes of white that reflected the sun’s light over the street. The studio’s name,  _ Miraculous Steps _ , glittered at the top in blue and red streaks. “How are we going to afford this?”

 

“Well, according to the FAQ, it’s downright cheap. Are you game?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, totally. This place seriously rocks, Alya. Great work at surfing the internet.” She gave her a brief fist-bump. “When are we gonna swing by?”

 

“Maybe the night after auditions? The first night at the club is a breeze, as Nino had put it. We should do just fine with our current jams.”

 

“And who will be the third and fourth members?”

 

Alya opened her mouth, paused, and closed it again.

 

“You didn’t even think about it?” She asked incredulously.

 

“It’s a small thing to worry about! I forgot!”

 

“Uh, for your info, it’s an important thing!” She sighed and worried her bottom lip. “How are we going to find two more people to join by the end of the day?”

 

“Relax, it’s an easy task!” Alya shrugged. “Look, we’re having P.E today. We’ll just scan the crowd for anyone worthy and then  _ bam,  _ we welcome them aboard!”

 

The bell rang at the same as she grumbled, “Easier said than done, genius.”

 

Time flew and they soon found themselves in the girls’ changing room. Marinette tried to keep her eyes opened, but honestly, it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Alya’s earlier instructions were just, “Keep calm and find us some potential dancers.”

 

Said girl was standing at the far end of the room, talking to Mylene. They looked like they were in a heated discussion by the way Alya kept waving her arms in the air like she was trying to play an overly-energized game of charades. Mylene just stared at her, dumbfounded.

 

Marinette let a breath out and gave each girl a once over. Nothing really stood out. She sometimes saw a flattering bra that caught her interest and she mentally noted down the colors and shape for future purchases, but other than that she didn’t see anyone who could have a hint of interest in break dancing. At least, not visibly.

 

Giving up on the sneaky approach, she decided to adopt her friend’s method and walked over to Alix. She was her first guess because the short girl had amazing speed and fluent moves on the skates. Maybe she applied that to dances? “Hey,” Marinette smiled.

 

“Yo, whatup?” Alix raised her head in greeting. She placed her cap on her head and fixed her hair. “I’ve noticed that you and Alya have been stalking us all day.”

 

She blanched but kept her composure. “Oh! That, umm… we were just… n-no, really?” She giggled nervously. Yup, her smooth composure sure was strong.

 

Alix laughed, entirely amused. “Hey, gotta have our bisexual days, am I right?”

 

“Err, totally.”

 

“Alright, so, ya got something to talk about?”

 

She swallowed before blurting out, “Can you dance?”

 

A pause. A blink. “Seriously?”

 

She nodded stiffly.

 

“Huh.” She leaned her back on the metal locker behind her, deep in thought.

 

“I-I'm so sorry if that came out too bold.”

 

“Nahh, not that, pigtails.” She adjusted her cap, paused, and continued, “Just that another person asked me the same thing earlier.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. And now you’re askin’ me. Is this about tonight’s dancing competition at the Akuma joint?”

 

“Yes!” Marinette couldn’t help but bounce from one foot to the other, giddy. “Are you thinking of participating?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Fantastic!”

 

“But, I already have a team.”

 

Marinette froze. Her face must’ve looked pathetic because Alix was frantically waving her hands in front of her like she had made a kid cry in the playground. “Sorry, man, but someone asked me first! If you’d offered an hour ago, I’d be all to help you out.”

 

“Thanks anyways, Alix.” Marinette slumped her shoulders. “See you tonight, I suppose?”

 

“If you can see through my disguise.” She punched her shoulder lightly and saluted.

 

It was too bad. The girl might’ve been a big influence on the team. Shaking out of her disappointment, Marinette looked out for any other girls who could be an option. When it was time to go to the gym, she fell into step with Alya and asked, “How’d your search go?”

 

“Bad.” She mumbled. “Mylene dances, but the little cotton ball doesn’t do it competitively.”

 

“Ouch. Well, my end turned kinda sour, too. Alix joined another team a little while ago. We didn’t ask her fast enough.”

 

Alya winced. “Damn. She’s a tough rival. I’ve seen her floorwork. She’s good.”

 

The gym was vast and smelled of wet socks. The little squeaks that the sleek floor and their sneakers made was the only sound that distracted her. Half of the day had flown out of the window faster than she had anticipated. If they couldn’t find anyone before school ended, then it’d all be for nothing. The rules were crystal clear that the members had to be whole and present tonight for the sign-up and auditions. She even considered getting her dad into it if things got exceedingly desperate. And her dad could barely do the wave.

 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing her mind to calm down and stop making horrific scenes of Tom in spandex. They had to find members  _ fast.  _ Peering across the group of teens huddled together, she measured them up and thought about the possibilities. Nino was the DJ and hence one of the judges. His name was the first one to be crossed in their list. Mylene and Alix weren’t available anymore.

 

Like magnets to metal, her eyes locked on Adrien sitting on one of the long benches. He was immersed in a conversation with Nino.

 

Blood exploded into her head. Turning away quickly, she struggled to keep her heartbeat steady. He was good. Extremely good. In fact, he might be the best dancer in the entire school. He had the right education, technique, and skill to pull off any routine thrown at him.

 

She dug her nail into her thigh in attempt to pull herself back to reality. They wouldn’t be able to practice, not with her tripping over and acting like a fool around him. He had that effect on her and she cursed at whatever force that gave it to him. Maybe, just maybe, if she could keep her feelings in check, she could go up to him and ask him to join. Maybe, just  _ maybe _ , he might even say yes.

 

Adrien and Marinette, King and Queen of the Dance Floor. It had a nice ring to it.

 

Again, the bitter truth that that would never happen drowned her as if someone had poured a tub of ice water on her head.

 

She slapped both cheeks and concentrated. Members. Members. Gotta find them.

 

The teacher blew on his whistle and ordered them to do laps. Groaning, the class started jogging around the court sluggishly. Ivan was threading behind a little with Mylene a few feet away from him, encouraging him on. She figured that Ivan wouldn’t be the dancing type. Chloe was even more behind, pampering her nails while she walked and having Sabrina fan her with a book. Marinette glared for a second. Those two were impossible to work with. Besides, Chloe had made it evident that she loathed their ‘vulgar dancing’. She scoffed and tried to get away from the growing flame of anger that abruptly sparked.

 

Unconsciously, she turned to Adrien again. He was ahead of them by a few meters, his forehead coated with a thin layer of sweat and his chest heaving evenly with each inhale and exhale. His body was clearly well-shaped. There was abundant proof that he was nimble too - she could see it from the way he lifted his foot off the ground like an eagle taking flight. His arms were muscular, probably from all the work outs he always did. Could it be possible that Adrien Agreste also break danced? She had only ever watched him do the slow dances that Chloe was so fond of. But with that kind of physique, it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to change course. 

 

She ran into someone and stumbled backwards. Expecting a harsh impact, she screwed her eyes shut and waited. The fall never came. A gloved hand held on tight to her wrist. Her savior returned her balance with a light wrench. Juleka offered a small smile. “Careful.” She said.

 

“Thanks.” Marinette sighed in relief. “For a second there I thought I was gonna timber.”

 

“Were you spacing out?”

 

“Something like that. It’s just a dilema me and Alya are having.”

 

“Oh? Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“I can handle it. Hopefully.”

 

Out of the blue, Rose stepped out from behind the emo girl. “You okay, Marinette? Should I get an energy drink for you?”

 

“No, no, that’s fine, Rose. I’m feeling better. Thanks.” From the space between the two girls, she saw Alya eyeing her with a raised eyebrow. “I gotta go. Talk to you guys later.”

 

After exchanging quick nods, she hopped over to her best friend and sat down, legs crossed and arms dangling. “Progress?” She inquired.

 

Alya shook her head in dismay.

 

Sighing, she propped her chin in her palms. Two more hours before school was out. It sucked, but the end was approaching and their hands were tied behind their backs. Maybe Tom wouldn’t look too bad in shorts?

 

“Should we just go tonight and pick out any random guy off the unwanted crowd?” Alya suggested, already forlorn.

 

“There’s no guarantee that there’ll be one. It’s a wild goose chase.”

 

“I’m sorry, girl. I should’ve been more prepared.”

 

“Hey, we still have time. Maybe Nathaneal? Or we could ask one of your sisters?”

 

“Nathaneal has the dorkiest crush on you. It’d be a miracle if he could shuffle right in the same room with you.”

 

Marinette made a crude noise at her.

 

“And my little sisters have two left feet. They’re not even in to hip-hop.”

 

Whimpering, she lowered her head into her palms, cradling both cheeks.

 

“I say we still go anyways. They can’t say no to the two divas of Paris.”

 

“I wish you could stop joking for a second, Alya.” She didn’t mean to, but her tone came out a little too sharp.

 

Just her luck, Alya picked it up with a scowl. “Excuse me? I’m not interested in being a sulky mess. I’m trying to lighten the mood here and if you don’t appreciate that-”

 

“Hey, I didn’t say-”

 

“Yeah, but you clearly implied that. Just so you know, I’m just as stressed as you are but I’m still thinking positive! Can’t you do the same?”

 

Silence descended on them as they looked away from each other. The dark-haired girl exhaled through her nose and laid back on her hands. Perfect. Not only were they short on members, they were also arguing.

 

When was the last time they had a predicament like this? She had a vague memory of them sitting back to back, arms crossed stubornly as they debated about who would get the last piece of cake. It ended pretty horribly, with Marinette’s dress bearing stripes of mustard and Alya’s glasses sinking at the bottom of the mini chocolate fountain. And they had a sleepover the same night. She remembered how hard they had guffawed at each others’ appearance, snapping pictures and uploading it on their Instagrams. It was as if the fight had never happened and they moved on as soon as they realized how much they needed each other.

 

Although, with this kind of strain, would it be fitting if they just stayed quiet? They were a team, in more ways than one now. Working together, sharing ideas, splitting the jobs - it was necessary. They can’t fall apart. But she felt like the earth underneath her was already cracking and was trying to swallow her whole.

 

“Hey,” Alya nudged her with her sneaker, a shock running through with the contact, but it didn’t do much for her enthusiasm. “Girl. Look.”

 

“What?” Marinette murmured, her life slipping through her body.

 

With not-so-gentle hands, Alya repositioned her head so she was looking at Rosa and Juleka at the far left. They were talking and laughing while Juleka balanced precariously at the edge of the wood and Rose another level higher than her. She was about to ask what was so important until it happened.

 

Juleka’s body tipped sideways. Her feet left the surface of the bench. A shout was trapped in Marinette’s throat.

 

The other girl, though, blew the alarm out from her as she did something extremely unexpected. She landed on both hands, laughed at a clapping Rose, and fell forward. Her right leg extended first and the other one to the opposite direction, body lowering, with such lithe and grace that she rivaled a ballerina, into a jaw-dropping split. 

 

Alya’s hands were firm on either side of her head, but she doubted that she could look away.

 

Rose giggled before doubling over. Marinette thought that she was going to touch her toes, but instead her fingers went lower, right on the bench that Juleka had previously stood. She barely had time to process before the petite girl bended backwards so far that she made it look like she didn’t have a single bone inside her and then with the same beauty that Juleka had performed, she landed soundlessly beside the taller girl. Juleka said something to her and the two girls laughed again.

 

“Tell me that wasn’t my imagination.” Marinette murmured, still transfixed.

 

“That wasn’t your imagination.”

 

They shared a distraught look with one another before they bolted forward.

 

It was an understatement to say that they had startled Juleka and Rose with their sudden outburst. They kept pushing each other back and trying to get out words like:

 

“Get off, I saw them first-”

 

“I got here first, bitch, now let me-”

 

“Ow, my foot!”

 

“Jesus, move or I’ll-”

 

Juleka and Rose backed away to avoid their floundering limbs. “Um,” Rose gulped. “C-Can we help you?”

 

“ _ Yes _ !”

 

“Okay…” Rose hid behind her taller friend, more than a little abashed, and in turn Juleka patted her head.

 

Marinette elbowed Alya in the cheek. “Will you guys-”

 

Alya pulled one of her pigtails. “-Join our dance team?”

 

A full ten seconds passed. Ten seconds. And no reply.

 

Alya let go of Marinette’s hair. Marinette lowered her arm. The both of them coughed sheepishly, toeing the floor and keeping their hands tight in front of them. “Is that a no?” Alya asked, a nervous grin plastered on.

 

Juleka and Rose locked eyes for a second, a silent conversation underway. Juleka broke out into an excited jump, pumping her fist in the air and whooping. Rose squealed in pure delight and hopped around like a bunny getting carrots. “Of course we’ll join!”

 

Screaming. Lots of screaming happened.

 

And because of the ruckus that the four of them made, the teacher had them do fifty push-ups. And it was amazing. Alya kept falling on her boobs from laughing so hard. Rose couldn’t even raise herself off the floor because her arms shook with each giggle. Juleka was so galvanized that she didn’t even notice that she had done sixty-something push-ups already. Marinette was in the middle of helping Alya breathe when her eyes caught green ones.

 

Adrien was staring at them, his lips forming a distant chuckle. Their gazes were glued to each other for a few seconds, but it felt like years for Marinette. He offered a kind smile and a wave.

 

Slowly, as if she was zapped with a slow motion gun, she waved back, a furious blush forming from her ears to her neck.

 

She still wondered about what it could be like, dancing with him. If they hadn’t found Rose and Juleka, would he be willing to join? A rational part of her chided that he was a high-class boy and seeing him in a grimy club would be close to absurd. Crazy, even. He couldn’t possibly be interested in the dance competition. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t really comprehend why her mind kept wandering over to him. He was a dancer, yes, but he was in the same zone with Chloe. Elite. Upper crust. The dances he did was unfortunately too far out of their league.

 

Though, it didn’t break her happiness. Smiling all the way home, red greasepaint tucked safely in her bag, she worked harder at the bakery than she usually did. It was the least she could do. She was about to tell the biggest lie to her parents tonight, after all. They deserved her utmost dedication, if only during her shift. She even left her iPod back in her room. Music free, no distractions. No dancing between breaks. Customers were so smitten with her that they had tipped her so handsomely to the point she physically couldn’t pocket all the change anymore. Tom tried to avoid her money, saying that the customers had given it to  _ her,  _ but she insisted and dropped every last penny into his hand. They were the ones who deserved it, not her.

 

When it was time to close up the shop, she lingered for a moment with them on the stairs, kissing them with extra affection. “I love you,” She breathed, utterly sincere.

 

She fought back the tears that threatened to spill as she clambered up to her room, locking it securely behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no regrets on updating so fast. This AU is just so exciting to write and I'm in Miraculous hell and I'm swimming in my own tears (of joy).


	3. Chapter 3

Her room was dark, with the exception of the moon above her window. Stars dusted her face, making the deep red greasepaint more prominent on her pale skin. She touched the edge of her makeshift mask, wondering silently whether the disguise would work or not. It rounded her eyes and widened to the middle of her forehead and midway down her nose. It was sloppy work, but she definitely looked different, at least.

 

 

She stared at herself in the mirror for a brief minute. A red crop top adorned her chest, black spots dancing over the fabric and leaving her stomach exposed to the chilly air. Cladding her legs was a pair of baggy harem pants, all grey and washed of color. Her red sneakers squeaked on the wooden floor as she spun around and dropped low, landing on one knee and testing out the flexibility of her costume. It didn’t restrain a single muscle.

 

 

This is it, her mind chanted. This is it.

 

 

On her bed were a few pillows carefully stacked underneath a thick blanket, making it look like a lame but passable imitation of her. Pocketing her keys, she made her way to the far wall. Opening the front door at this hour would only prove to be risqué. She knew for a fact that her father liked to watch a soccer game on TV at ten, and Sabine was probably with him. Just a creak of a door could alert them and it would all be over for her before the real battle even began.

 

 

Quietly, she unlocked her window and stood on the frame. The long drop down was a bit intimidating, and she might break more than just a few bones, but she had to tough it out. Holding on tight with one hand, she used the other one to reach for a lightpost. It was way too far.

 

 

Sighing, she tugged her hair and groaned. She hadn’t really thought the whole thing through.

 

 

She had to jump.

 

 

She gulped and tried to slow down her racing heart. It was half an hour to ten already and if she didn’t make a move now, she’d be too late.

 

 

Bracing her feet, she leaped and made a wild grab for the lightpost’s metal pole. She suppressed a fearful shrill as she descended down, thankful that she was wearing gloves even though they were fingerless.

 

 

She would have loved to say that she had landed gracefully on the pavement, but in reality she almost broke her butt after a somewhat safe fall.

 

 

It didn’t help her that the club was blocks away from her house. She didn’t risk any breaks as she wove around Paris’s many streets and into the darker parts of the city. The neighborhood was a narrow, damp old place with few lights lining the way. She hurried along as she passed a group of youths lurking in the shadows.

 

 

To her surprise, a few police cars were parked here and there, some with the red and blue lights on, and a couple of officers were guarding the perimeter, weapons at the ready. She let herself relax a bit.

 

 

Ducking, she scanned the buildings and kept a lookout for the club’s sign. She faintly heard a bass beat as she neared the corner. In this area, three policemen were sitting on a bench and eating donuts as if they were in a coffee shop talking about the weather. Marinette stared at them and smiled politely when one of them turned.

 

 

“The Akuma?” The policemen tilted his head.

 

 

“Um, yeah.” Marinette said. “Is it around here, sir?”

 

 

“The second building from the end. Be careful in these parts, though. It could get pretty dangerous, especially with this new club in the district.”

 

 

“Oh, don’t scare the girl, Matt.” His friend chided. “It’s alright miss, we officers are gonna wipe this place clean from any sort of crime, don’t you worry.”

 

 

“Thank you.” Marinette nodded. “Have a good night.”

 

 

Sure enough, bright purple lights lined the words ‘The Akuma’ in artistic lines and curves, and at the bottom of the sign was a design of a butterfly. The walls were painted jet black with colorful graffiti decorating the bricks like brand names. From the vibrating stone under her feet, Marinette could tell, with a hint of excitement, that the music inside definitely wasn’t coming from just a few tiny stereos.

 

 

But her insides twisted uncomfortably when she took in the dozens of people waiting outside.

 

 

Nino had been pumped and bragged that their first night would absolutely be a hit, though it didn’t prepare her for all these competitors. From his short briefing, he had said that all contestants had to be on standby at the door and not come in before the clock struck ten. Her watch told her that there was still ten minutes left.

 

 

She tried to find Alya in the throng of bodies, struggling to spot her fiery hair, but there were too many people. Like herself, they wore something to hide their faces. Some were wearing bandanas over their noses and mouths, some wore masquerade-like masks, and some even went as far as painting their entire faces in outrageous colors. Alya, Rose, and Juleka could be any of them.

 

 

Marinette shrugged before fishing out her phone and dialing Alya. Might as well try. Besides, her best friend never went anywhere without her smartphone.

 

 

“Yo, where are you?” Alya’s voice flitted through the contraption.

 

 

“I have a better question.” Marinette said. “What the hell do you look like? I can’t find you.”

 

 

“Pssshh. The hottest one there, obviously.”

 

 

“Haha.” Marinette mumbled an apology when she accidentally bumped into someone. “Seriously, Alya-”

 

 

“Hey, keep it down!” The other girl hissed. “Don’t expose me before we’ve even started!”

 

 

“Oops. Sorry. So, it’s…?”

 

 

“Lady Wifi.” She smirked. “Cool, right?”

 

 

“Totally.” She wriggled between a couple of girls and continued her aimless search. “I’m… uhh…” She looked down at her attire and wracked her brain for any names. Polka dots? No, too ridiculous. Black and Red? No, too long. She touched the hem of her crop top and bit her bottom lip. “I guess you could call me… Ladybug.”

 

 

“Alright, Ladybug. What are you wearing? I’ll come and find you.”

 

 

“I can manage to find you faster if you-” Her head clashed with something hard. Mewling in pain, she rubbed her forehead and blinked away the abrupt dizziness. “Watch where you’re-”

 

 

Marinette stopped her voice when she saw who the person was. A girl with chocolate skin and messy hair tied into a ponytail stood in front of her. She wore a black tank top under a too-big “I Love Wifi” shirt, completed with a pair of black, white striped shorts and sports shoes. Rubber bracelets circled and bounced on both her wrists as she rubbed her face. It was then that Marinette noticed the black eye shadow around her eyes like glasses without support.

 

 

Triumph, Marinette shut her phone. “Found you.” She grinned.

 

 

“Whoa, girl,” Lady Wifi pocketed her own gadget before giving her best friend a hug. “You dressed up!”

 

 

“And you look like a raccoon.”

 

 

A pinch to her sides.

 

 

“Kidding! You look awesome. I wouldn’t have recognized you if it weren’t for that shirt and uh,” Ladybug pointed at the two wifi pins fastened in her hair. “Yeah, cool accessories, by the way.”

 

 

“It completes the costume. But mine doesn’t hold a candle to these guys.” She indicated the others around them with her chin. “I mean, shit, get a load of that.”

 

 

She was right. A lot of them had apparently planned the whole thing out, starting with some wardrobe assessments. Some teams already had signature hoodies, wild caps, dyed-up hair with matching colors, and one of them was even bathed with bling. Ladybug winced. “That can’t be comfortable to dance in.”

 

 

“I swear, half of these chicks are coming here just to hook up.” The redhead crinkled her nose in distaste when a girl wearing nothing but undergarments passed by. “This is hip-hop, not a strip tease.”

 

 

“Just forget them.” Ladybug turned her head. “Anyways, where are-”

 

 

“Lady Wifi!” Someone from the crowd shouted. “Did you find her?”

 

 

“Oh, yo, over here!” Lady Wifi waved her arms high in the air.

 

 

A small girl emerged in the middle of them, grunting and puffing, and raised a gloved hand. “Hello!” She chirped. “Do you recognize me, Mar- ahh, Ladybug?”

 

 

The girl had short blonde hair, obviously gelled as it spiked at every direction, and huge blue eyes that twinkled between a thick sheet of pink paint. The holes of her cream-colored shirt were large enough that she could catch sight of a fashionable bra. Her tight-fitting pink pants ended on her shins, and stitched to the pocket was a pattern in the shape of a perfume bottle. Tiny dance shoes covered the soles of her feet with little bows attached on top.

 

 

“Princess Fragrance, at your service.” She bowed before giggling.

 

 

Ladybug’s jaw dropped. Leaning in hastily, she whispered-cried, “Rose?!”

 

 

“Yup.”

 

 

“Oh my…” A grin broke her face as she let out a breath. “God.”

 

 

Rose blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “I got too excited and went kinda overboard.”

 

 

“You look great.” Ladybug squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Feel free to get overboard on the dance floor while you’re at it.”

 

 

“Where’s Reflekta?” Lady Wifi piped up. “They’re gonna open soon.”

 

 

“Oh, right.” Princess Fragrance tugged at something behind her. “Hey, it’s okay, you can come out.”

 

 

“I feel embarrassed.” A low voice replied.

 

 

“Nonsense! You look beautiful.”

 

 

“You’re saying that because you’re the one who styled me.”

 

 

“Stop being ridiculous.” She tugged again. “Come out.”

 

 

A pause, and then a sigh. “Fine.”

 

 

Reflekta was not-so-obviously Juleka alright. It wasn’t because she could actually tell by her features per-se, with the only physical indications of said girl being the streak of purple in her dark hair. Other than that, she was another person. Her usually long bangs were braided to the side, giving them a full picture of the impossibly-detailed painting of gears around her eyes. A black blouse was tied at the middle, her thin stomach on display, and a hint of a purple tube top peeking through. An old pair of jeans had been cut short and it hugged her curves perfectly. Purple sneakers and a single glove completed her outfit.

 

 

“This is Reflekta.” Lady Wifi pointed a thumb at her. “And I dare say that she may be the only one here that can rival my sexiness.”

 

 

“Absolutely.” Ladybug nodded appreciatively. “Stop being so shy, Reflekta. You’re a total knock-out.”

 

 

“I don’t really care all that much about appearance.” The girl said. “But it makes PF happy. And that matters to me.”

 

 

Beside her, Princess Fragrance blushed and pushed her playfully.

 

 

It wasn’t long until the big double doors burst open, revealing three men in glow-in-the-dark hoodies, headphones hugging each of their necks like a collar. The entire group clapped and whooped as deafening music slithered out to the sidewalk. One of them, cladded in more random colors than the other two, stepped forward and raised his hands for silence. When the roar of cheers died down, he said, “Yo, b-boys and b-girls!”

 

 

Another chorus of shouts, a few whistles and a few meows.

 

 

“I’m sure y’all are stoked for this night as the rest of us. The name’s Bubbler, and on behalf of the Akuma nightclub, I welcome you to Paris’ sickest Battle of the Moves!”

 

 

Ladybug stomped her feet along with her teammates, ecstatic, as they screamed their gratitude. This was actually happening.

 

 

“You guys know the basics of this competition already. Do not, under any circumstances, reveal your identities because if you do, you and your team will be ultimately kicked out of the line. Battle of the Moves is strictly about your moves and nothing else, and we judges want to make sure of that.”

 

 

The second DJ raised his hand. This guy was cladded in black and streaks of glowing grey. “Which brings us to the more specific details of the competition. Your team will go head-to-head with another random team, and your goal is to collect as many scores from the judges - that’s us, btw - and climb your way to the top of the list.”

 

 

Bubbles continued, “The battles are also switched from time to time. Tonight, it’s a one-man battle which means you’re going solo on the dance floor. Next week, who knows? It might be a team battle, two-on-two, or whatever shit we judges roll on you.”

 

 

The last DJ stepped up. He was a bit brighter than the two, with his hoodie white and a few jagged lines of light blue lining his sleeves like odd-colored lightning bolts. “The last bit of info you might find interesting is the ranks. As my friend Copycat had explained, your goal is to get to the top. Wanna know the perks of it during your time at the club?” He grinned when the contestants beyond him shouted a yes. “The three top teams will get unlimited drinks at the bar, completely free of charge!”

 

 

The older kids went nuts at that; yelling out incorrigible words that weren’t suitable for a youngster’s ears, throwing their hands in the air and jumping on pure energy.

 

 

“Yo, wait, Pixelator!” Copycat immediately interjected with a frantic wave. “Alcohol is strictly for eighteen and up ages, folks!”

 

 

Nearly half of them whined out a long ‘boo’. Ladybug just shrugged, followed by her teammates.

 

 

Bubbler in turn laughed and gestured widely at the door behind them. “Well, whatcha bitches doin’ down there? Get in the club and dance!”

 

 

“Single file, everyone!” Copycat sighed.

 

 

Without being told twice, everyone ran through the doors.

 

 

The club was vast, dark, and ridiculously loud. The song playing through the speakers vibrated the entire building, making the walls pulse like a vein. A small bar was located at the far side, the counter lit up with blue neon lights, girls in tight clothes serving the ever-growing customers. Over at the DJ booth, which was at another level higher than the dance floor, an older woman was bobbing to the beat, her fingers flipping and turning a few switches on her equipment. Most of the contestants weren’t patient enough to wait for the three other DJs as they pushed onwards to the middle of the club, raising their arms in the air and laughing into the darkness. Thanks to the dots of colorful light flying around the room, Ladybug could maneuver herself and her team to the side, gripping the railings that separated them from the dance floor.

 

 

The instinct to just jump and be one with the masses of dancers was excruciatingly tempting, but she held it at bay, reminding herself that these people were her competitors, and it’d be a good idea to observe.

 

 

She was about to say something to the other girls when someone collided with her shoulder. Stumbling back, she huffed and glanced up at the stranger.

 

 

Green eyes greeted her underneath a dark hoodie, the upper half of his face smeared with black. For a second, their gazes locked, and just like that, he turned away and continued walking.

 

 

The others, however, didn’t notice the brief eye contact. “Let’s get down there and groove, girl!” Lady Wifi screamed to be heard over the echo of noise surrounding them. “What are we waiting for?!”

 

 

“Yeah, come on, Ladybug.” Reflekta nudged her.

 

 

Ladybug blinked away the mysterious fog from her mind, hastily brushing it off with a shrug. “I was thinking that we should watch for a minute,” she replied, “see what we’re up against, you know? It wouldn’t hurt to just-”

 

 

“Oh, _come on_ , Ladybug!” Lady Wifi pointed below. “There’s plenty of that once the first round starts! Let loose already! _Dance_!” At the last word, the redhead pulled on her wrist, guiding her to the stairs. She didn’t have time to protest when they descended because her teammates were already jumping up and cheering, Princess Fragrance doing a sort of victory twirl and a flip, landing once again so gracefully on her shoes. Reflekta wasn’t too far off, having embraced the pumping atmosphere and doing her own routine that seemed to be a mix of hip-hop and ballet. Her feet were light, less stomping and more gliding, as if she was walking on a cloud. Lady Wifi, though, was all power. Her hair flew about her face, hips swishing and hands pushing out, and Ladybug realized that the bracelets adorning her wrists were actually glow-in-the-dark, which made her movements all the more vigorous.

 

 

And she had to admit. They were all having so much fun, so much freedom to being who they were – dancers. At home, there was just so much dancing that she could squeeze in, and so limited space to leap and spin, but at Akuma, it was everything that she could ask for.

 

 

Once the song looped back to its electronic rhythm, Ladybug’s soul broke loose.

 

 

It started from her fingers, the bones in them nearly nonexistence as they moved atop invisible piano keys, up her shoulders and down her hips, until the heat burst and wrapped her in a coat of fire, and she let all of her limbs work in tandem. Her sneakers flew over the floor, not exactly as elegant Reflekta’s were, but it wrote a message on the smooth surface of the ground, saying the _she was here._ Ladybug – Marinnete Dupain-Cheng – was here to rock and rule over any song they threw at her. She was here and ready to soar, each kick and wave filled with purpose to take her higher and higher.

 

 

Ladybug spun and dropped to her hands, letting her legs become blades above her as she never let the momentum leave her body. Returning to her feet, she met back with her group, the four of them working a synchronized harmony.

 

 

The look of sheer glee on all of their faces was enough to bury the remaining guilt that had followed her from home, if only for the night.

 

 

And then she saw it. A flash of green.

 

 

Tearing her eyes from her friends, she looked at something behind Princess Fragrance’s head. Another group stood a good distance away from them, but she could recognize the hoodie, if only because of the strange neon-green strips decorating the edges. It was the stranger that had bumped into her earlier. It was absurd, she chided herself though. Lots of people wore black hoodies, and she hadn’t even gotten the chance to study him any further other than his intense eyes. But when the person flicked his head to her direction, she knew that she wasn’t mistaken.

 

 

The same eyes locked on hers, and it was incredible, considering the dully lit club that they were in, that she could make that small detail out. Clearly a boy, he was definitely looking at her, if the small smirk that tugged his mouth was anything to go by. She didn’t let herself be fazed, instead daring him to be the first one to look away. He didn’t.

 

 

She couldn’t help but examine his attire, letting her stare drift up from his green sneakers and black pants, further still to the black T-shirt portraying a green paw print, and finally to his head. Locking eyes again, he seemed to notice her taking in his appearance, and his smirk grew wider, a single eye winking at her. She held her chin high in response, making sure he saw her unimpressed expression.

 

 

“Yo, Mari,” Lady Wifi elbowed her, successfully jolting her back to reality. “You okay in there?”

 

 

“I… I’m fine.” She glanced quickly at the boy, and found that he was still focused on her.

 

 

“What are you looking at?” Princess Fragrance asked before turning her own head.

 

 

“Nothing!” Ladybug squeaked a little too loudly. “It’s nothing, PF. Really.”

 

 

“You’re acting weird,” her best friend said skeptically.

 

 

Just as she was about to reply, the sound of a microphone being tapped replaced the pounding music. She sighed in relief, careful to not alert her group. She wanted to look again, to see if the stranger was still there, but thought better of it. It wasn’t a good idea, she concluded, at least not with Alya’s pestering curiosity.

 

 

“You had your fun,” Pixelator spoke, “but now is the time to get the losers out of the way.”

 

 

“Dude, really?” Copycat sighed beside him, yanking the microphone away from him. “Sorry about this asshole. Don’t mind him.” Pixelator gave him the finger, one which Copycat didn’t catch. “Anyways, it’s time for the first round to start. Team captains, if you would please pick a piece of paper from that bowl,” he pointed to Bubbler, who was holding said object, “then that’d be awesome.”

 

 

“That’s your cue,” Ladybug gripped her best friend’s shoulder.

 

 

“Nahh, girl.” Lady Wifi waved her off. “ _You’re_ the captain here, missy.”

 

 

“Say _what_?”

 

 

Reflekta gave her an encouraging push, while Princess Fragrance held up her thumbs.

 

 

Gulping, she climbed up the stairs and over to where the judges stood. She cursed when a few people pushed her aside, scowling at the backs of their heads before attempting to squeeze through. But despite her small size, she couldn’t get in. She sighed and decided that she’d have to be a model citizen and queue.

 

 

In the midst of her mini-sulking, someone whistled next to her. “Team captain too, huh?” Stranger-boy asked her.

 

 

She was only stunned for a split second before she cocked her hip, eyeing him up. He was tall, she mused, and his hair was messy and blond, the locks plastered to his forehead from sweat. She held in a giggle when she caught sight of what seemed to be cat ears perched on top of his hood. A kid at heart, perhaps? Or a cat lover? “Did you expect me to be something else, kitty?” She poked the paw print pattern on his chest.

 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He leaned down then, his breath close to her ear. “I liked your dance.” He whispered huskily.

 

 

Ladybug couldn’t contain the shiver that ran down her spine, struggling to regain her composure. She pushed him back with a finger to his cheek. “Thank you.” She replied curtly.

 

 

“Hey, relax. I don’t bite.” He shrugged, grinning. “At least, not if you don’t want me to.”

 

 

She rolled her eyes. “A Casanova, are you?”

 

 

“Depends.” He touched his upper arm to hers, again whispering in her ear, “Is my charm working on you…?”

 

 

“Ladybug.” Thinking that she couldn’t stop his flirtatious antics, she decided to play his game. Standing on her tiptoes, she blew a gust of hot air at his sensitive skin, smiling wickedly when she saw him shudder. “You can call me Ladybug, _minou._ ”

 

 

“It’s Chat Noir, actually.” She instantly regretted her choice of action, as he immediately took it as a go sign to be handsy. His gloved hand snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, making her suck in a sharp gasp. “What do you say we dance together later-”

 

 

“Uh, no.” Ladybug disentangled herself from him, throwing in a glare for good measure. “I’ll stick with my team. Thanks for the invite, alley cat.”

 

 

“Ouch. You wound me, my lady.” He stepped again to her side, keeping some space between them this time, but still a bit too chummy for her taste. “But my invitation still stands. Don’t get your ass kicked out of here before you say yes.”

 

 

“I wasn’t planning on losing the first round. And I wasn’t planning on saying yes.”

 

 

“Oh, I’ll find a way. After all,” he smirked, “I’d like to see those moves you have a bit more closely before the night ends.”

 

 

Sending him one last glance, she scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I once mentioned that I'd reveal Chat Noir's teammates on this update, but it turns out that the chapter has gotten way too long and a lot happens here so I'll just save it for a later date. Sorry about that guys! ^^;
> 
> Next chapter will be filled with dances and it's gonna be a hella pain to write cuz I'm still learning to write movements and dynamics and I'm really just trying not to screw it up lol. Hopefully I'll update soon so stay tuned for more! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the LadyNoir and lowkey DJWifi folks :3

Now, Marinette didn’t consider herself as violent. A few years back, she had gotten into a heated arguement with Chloe, to which the blonde had nearly used her arm as her personal scratching post, but Marinette stayed composed and  _ not _ whack her upside the head with a chair. Since that day, she was confident with her patience and impulse control no matter how frustrating a conversation went.

 

But Chat Noir was beginning to thin out her determination with every advance he made.

 

It had started with an arm around her waist, and then a hand creeping up the skin of her bare side, and then a few lame pick-up lines spewing from his mouth. The chain of people in front of them seemed to stretch even farther as she counted to ten over and over again to dim the ever raging flame in her gut. It wasn’t his unstopable flirting that she couldn’t handle really, but more about his-

 

“So, I notice that they’re serving some mean fruit juice down at the bar. Want me to save us a few  _ spots _ ?” Chat Noir grinned, giving her a couple of finger guns, index fingers pointing at her top.

 

-unnerving amunition of ridiculous puns.

 

Eyebrow twitching, she stepped forward as yet another team was listed. She inhaled a lungful of air before saying, “Not interested. Thanks anyways,  _ chaton. _ ”

 

And at some point in their brief interaction, she had grown accustomed of calling the boy as he was dressed - a cat. An annoying, lost alley cat to be precise. By then, she had crossed ‘adopt a cute kitty’ from her mental note of future plans in big, red ink. She was now officially a dog person.

 

Another step forward.

 

“Aw, shame.” He hopped to the space next to her. “I’ve always wanted to buy a drink for a pretty lady.”

 

Ladybug held back a gag. 

 

There was a short pause before he asked,  “What’s your name?”

 

For a split second, Ladybug’s pulse jumped at his tone. Was that… sincerity? She looked up at him and found an unreadable expression masking his features. Hesitantly, she answered, “It’s Ladybug.” Her eyes darted away unconsciously. “And yours?”

 

“Chat Noir.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?” She scoffed. “I like  _ chaton _ better. Or  _ minou. _ It suits you better.”

 

“You may call me whatever you wish, my lady.”

 

For some ridiculous reason, she didn’t dare make eye contact after that. He still shot a couple more comments and she in turn retorted with equal passion, but she found that his gaze was too heavy. She couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. Something about those green eyes made her lost in thought, as if she’d seen them before in a hazy dream and she was trying desperately to recall them. It was dangerous, she confirmed, because they were competitors. If he noticed how curious she was, she feared that he’d use it in some way to make her miss a beat or trip on a note. Or worse; he’d take it as an invitation to blast even more infuriating jokes at her.

 

It was finally her turn to pick a paper. She dug around the pile and pulled one up. The number 8 was scrawled on it.

 

“A lucky number for a lucky girl.” Copycat grinned. “Team’s name, member’s name, and phone number please.”

 

“Uh, dude, we don’t  _ need  _ their phone numbers.” Bubbler interjected.

 

“Shush!”

 

“Um,” Brushing off the older boy’s words, she said, “Our team’s name is… Lucky Charm.”

 

“Ooh, perfect.” He winked. “I will  _ definitely _ cheer you guys on.”

 

“He’s joking.” Bubbler whispered to her. “He tells that to every girl.”

 

“Dude, seriously!”

 

She maintained a polite smile as she told him the rest of her teammates’ names. She pocketed her number and was about to descend the stairs when a hand grabbed her upper arm. Chat Noir smiled down at her and said, “I wasn’t kitty-ing around when I said I wanted to dance with you.”

 

Ladybug didn’t even get to reply when he abruptly let go and proceeded to pick his own number.

 

Lady Wifi was the first one to greet her back. “I saw that, you know.”

 

“Saw what?”

 

PF clasped her hands in front of her. “Romance comes in the most unexpected ways, Ladybug,” she said dreamily.

 

Ladybug blanched. “Wha- I wasn’t- no, no, no, you guys have it all wrong! We were mostly bickering!”

 

“He asked you to dance with him, didn’t he?” Reflekta tilted her chin at Chat Noir’s direction.

 

The only noise she could muster was incoherent choking sounds from her throat. They thought she and he were hitting it off? She and  _ that ludicrous cat _ ? It would have been funny if it had slipped from said ludicrous cat’s tongue, but hearing it come from her own friends? She was ready to hide under the nearest table if it weren’t for her shellshocked body not responding to her command. Thankful for the lack of light that concealed her blush, she stuttered, “I-I wouldn’t really say t-that we  _ are _ going to, you know,  _ dance  _ t-together but maybe we would. For observation! So I can rate his dancing skills!” She nervously twirled one of her pigtails. “Y-You three should do the same! Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, all that stuff.”

 

“Yeah, girls,” Lady Wifi chimed. “Though the only difference would be that we wouldn’t fawn over the enemy while we’re ‘observing’.”

 

Ladybug was about to bite her head off when Pixelator grabbed the microphone again, the music stilling almost instantly. “Alright, alright, alright! So, we’ve gotten the boring part down, and now for the real fun to begin! Know the drill people. All you gotta do is dance and impress us, no pressure there.  _ But  _ each team only gets one minute, and since there’s four of you and this is an  _ individual _ scoring, you only have t-minus fifteen seconds to show off your moves.” He snapped his fingers and Copycat brought another song on, the lyrics bouncing off the speakers in powerful waves. “Just a word of advice: don’t make us snore. Now, without further ado, team number one please hit the dance floor!”

 

Four people pounced out of nowhere, landing in the middle of an empty circle where the throng of youths had left. They waved and pounded their fists in the air, bringing forth a chorus of cheers. “Party Animals! The limelight is yours in three… two…” Pixelator pointed at the team before him. “One.”

 

And the first member went crazy.

 

It was a girl with multicolored hair, her jacket flung to the crowd as she rolled to the floor and spun on her hands, using the momentum of her legs to bring her closer to the fence of bodies around her before ultimately straightening back up without a stutter. Her body was like liquid as she waved through the song with amazing force.

 

“Our PF is way more flexible,” Lady Wifi clucked.

 

“But not as bold,” Princess Fragrance mumbled.

 

Reflekta gripped her friend’s shoulder silently.

 

The second member jumped in, accompanied by more shouts of encouragement as he switched to floorwork and back to toprock.

 

_ So, this is what a competition looks like _ , Ladybug thought. They were good. Scary good. While she still had every ounce of faith in her own team’s abilities, she still couldn’t fight back the festering anxiety that had clogged up her throat. She tried to reason that they were bound to breeze through this first round, but that didn’t mean they had an upper hand with these guys. Sure, she and Alya had been into dancing for as long as she could remember, and she still danced however often she could between school and shifts, but these people around her were different. Most of them were older, probably more experienced than the four of them combined. Did they have a chance against that?

 

But dancing isn’t about how many hours you’ve spent working with different kinds of music. Dancing wasn’t about how many moves you knew. Dancing was about how much you loved to let go and experience the adrenaline coursing through your every nerves as you match the beats with your body, with your  _ soul. _ That was the truth that she had built for herself. And she knew without a doubt in her mind that she  _ was  _ a dancer. Maybe not as captivating as the ones that were killing the club with their numbers right then, but she was just as vigorous as anyone else, maybe even more.

 

But was her love for dancing enough to bring home the money?

 

She watched, stock-still, as the last member did a backflip and landed loudly onto the smooth ground. She didn’t even find the screeching of supporters deafening. It was all shoved to the back of her head as worry slowly seeped in.

 

They were all good. Too good for her to be completely calm about the whole ordeal. This was a place where skill was needed, whereas ingenuousness was kicked to the curb. Lucky Charm had to be better. If the four of them wanted to win, then they had to do whatever it took to improve. Wrong steps, a split second contemplation, missed beats; they couldn’t afford-

 

“Yo, Ladybug?”

 

Flinching at the abrupt way her best friend nudged her, Ladybug shook out of her trance and glanced sideways. All three of her teammates were looking at her, concern etched into their eyes. Blinking, she said, “Sorry. What were you saying again?”

 

Lady Wifi stared. “You okay? You seem… under the weather.”

 

“Do you want a cold drink or something?” Princess Fragrance offered.

 

“I-I’m fine. I was just… thinking.”

 

“About?”

 

“About… well, all of  _ this _ .” She gestured to the people caging them. “This is way more wild than I imagined. I mean, I know that all of Paris’s best dancers are gonna be here but-”

 

“Are you honestly intimidated by these guys?” Lady wifi spat an incredulous laugh. “What happened to you, girl? We came here with four tons of imported confidence and then you have this mini heart attack over a few measly b-boys.”

 

“Lady Wifi’s right, Ladybug.” PF nodded. “We aren’t any worse than them! E-Even though I may not be a pure hip-hop dancer, I-I still have what it takes to rival these guys!”

 

“And besides,” Lady Wifi tossed her ponytail back. “I still hold the highest score in Dance Dance Evolution back at the arcade. These babies don’t scare me.”

 

“Oh, that was  _ your  _ score?” Reflekta asked. “Very rad.”

 

Lady Wifi winked at her briefly before turning back to Ladybug. “The point is that we  _ will _ wipe the floor with each and every one of them and we  _ will _ do it with our fabulous style. You’re our leader now. If you won’t be our guiding voice, then who will?”

 

Ladybug balled her fists and focused on her team’s hard gazes. Even without night vision, she could still catch the flames swirling in their irises. She also caught the slight tremble in Princess Fragrance’s legs, the twitching of Reflekta’s fingers, and the shuffling of Lady Wifi’s shoes. They were just as nervous as her, she realized, but they were making up for it with their set jaws and high-held chins.

 

It was alright to be afraid. Ladybug sucked in a breath, welcoming the scent of sweat and freedom, and locked her muscles. It was  _ alright _ to be afraid, but she couldn’t let it overwhelm her. The fact that they were standing there, together, unwavering and without invisible handcuffs holding them to their shortcomings, it was enough to secure them a position in this club. The chance of winning was still there, if only dangling from a string above them, and the most crucial thing that they could do was figure out how to keep climbing up to get it.

 

It wasn’t a matter of whether or not they could win, for the time being anyways. It was a matter of doing their best and not let petty things like anxiousness get in the way.

 

“Girls,” Ladybug smirked and brought her fist between them. “Lucky Charm is going to rock the building tonight. Mark my words.”

 

Reflekta was the first to include her fist, and then Lady Wifi, followed by Princess Fragrance. They shared a wordless smile to which each person knew the meaning. They were going to perform in front of these judges as if the world itself was watching them. No holding back and no second thoughts. This was the time to let loose and finally embrace who they were.

 

By then, three teams had already shown their moves, with the third team unfortunately being scratched out for not making the cut. Pixelator was in the middle of announcing the next turn when Ladybug suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder.

 

She whipped her head around and found a green pawprint in front of her nose. Ignoring the not-so-subtle cooing from behind her, she placed a hand on her hip and regarded the intruder of personal space. “ _ Chaton _ ,” she greeted curtly.

 

“My lady,” She didn’t expect him to swoop down and place a kiss on her knuckles, which led to her squeaking something in gibberish and him wearing a shit eating grin.

 

She chanted to herself that she would not smack him while at the same time fought back her blush.

 

“What number did you get?” Chat Noir asked.

 

She snatched her hand back from him and let her eyes dart around the vicinity, actively avoiding his green orbs. “Eight.” She shrugged. “Five minutes from now, more or less.”

 

“Huh, that’s pretty typical, actually.” He held up his own slip of paper then, showing off the big 13 written on it.

 

She couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh man! That number was  _ made _ for you!”

 

He snorted at her comment. A short pause passed between them. “Wanna dance?” He eventually murmured.

 

“Oh, I don’t know…” Her sentence trailed off after she saw the frantic way her three friends were shooing her ass away. Scowling at them, she met Chat Noir’s green eyes once again. “Fine. Your time is limited though, so make it worth my while, kitty cat.”

 

Squeezing past the circle of spectators, they found a passable niche in the crowd where they could move more freely. They started out simple enough, with Ladybug swishing her hips and Chat Noir toprocking, neither of them breaking eye contact.

 

She couldn’t help but shudder at the intense way he was looking at her, though.

 

The fourth team finished. A new song played.

 

And it was perfect. Techno-pop blasted in their ears, cheers from every direction complementing the sound and making the entire club hum in appreciation.

 

And apparently, it was one of Chat Noir’s favorites, because he was suddenly  _ alive. _

 

His hood flew off his head as he planted himself to the floor. Gloved hands supporting his weight, he spun with outrageous speed, looking abundantly like a spinning top. Ladybug was left gaping when he decided to jump back up on his feet, his landing bringing him so close to her that their chests almost touched.

 

She wanted to stomp on his smirk right then and there.

 

Shoving his person out of the way, she let the rhythm of the song fill her senses as she whipped her head to the side and brought her hands in the air. Her legs worked in a complicated pattern beneath her, changing from effortless to something more.

 

At some point, Chat Noir had stepped forward, as if wanting to hold her, but she spun out of his reach and came up behind him. She had no idea what she was aiming for when her hands slithered up his spine, to his shoulders, and she stood on her tiptoes to let a breath out next to his ear, but the effect it had on him was incredibly satisfying. He shivered and attempted to make another grab for her, but she ducked just in time and spun yet again.

 

When he swiveled his head to her direction, she just bit her lip and motioned for him to continue with a tweak of her finger.

 

And if she was being totally honest, she’d tell you that dancing with Chat Noir wasn’t so bad. In fact, she was having a  _ blast _ . They switched from showing off in general to more teasing routines and back again, eliciting even more laughs from the other person. Chat Noir would follow the movement of her hips with his hands, and Ladybug would press her back to his chest and tangle her fingers through his thick mane, both not seeming to be bashful of the intimacy of their position and instead let the moment flow.

 

By the time the sixth team left the dance floor with a victory whoop, the both of them were coated with sweat. Yet, none of them moved to part. They stood there, panting and staring at each other. Ladybug was the first to break the ice. “Huh,” was all she said.

 

Chat Noir smiled. “To you, too,” he replied. “We umm…” He coughed. “We make a good pair.”

 

The distinct sound of another team taking the dance floor beyond echoed around them. Ladybug pointed with her thumb. “I should get going,” she declared quietly. Shooting him one last look, she shouldered her way through the sea of people until she found her team.

 

And just in time for the spotlight to greet them.

 

The seventh team shuffled rather dejectedly to the exit, one of the sobbing girls bumping into PF as they passed. The petite blonde sighed at the sight. “That’s so sad,” she mumbled, her eyes trained on the fleeing group until they were out of the building.

 

“Come on, girl.” Lady Wifi patted her shoulder. “We can’t dwell on that right now. It’s our turn.”

 

Pixelator clapped his hands once. “That’s just how it is, folks. If there’s no loser, then there’s no winner. We gotta kick  _ somebody  _ out of here, am I right?”

 

“What this dufus means is,” Copycat wrestled for the microphone, to which Pixelator just held up his hands in mock surrender and proceeded to sit down on his spot next to Bubbler. “Though we have to disqualify a few teams, that doesn’t mean that said teams aren’t welcome to have fun in the Akuma. You all tried your best, whether you made it or not, and that’s what we judges salute you for.”

 

“Totally,” Pixelator shouted and snapped his fingers towards the audience. “That’s what I meant.”

 

Bubbler made an inappropriate gesture behind his co-worker which, bless the boy’s soul, had gone unnoticed by Pixelator. Lady Wifi had to cover her mouth to sustain the building guffaw forming on her tongue. 

 

“Okay, so, on to the next team!” He grinned. “Lucky Charm, show us what you got!”

 

The four girls skipped to the large space before them, with Lady Wifi and PF flailing their arms over their heads and cheering along with the other dancers, while Reflekta stuck with giving sheepish waves. Ladybug herself merely kept her hands in her pockets.

 

“Don’t leave any pent up energy, guys.” Ladybug exhaled and rolled her shoulders. “Just let go.”

 

“What if we slip up?” Princess Fragrance rasped.

 

“Don’t let that bother you. Act natural and twirl. Easy as that.”

 

“Get those curves movin’ in three… two…” Copycat slammed his fist down. “One!”

 

PF somersaulted into the center of the circle, touched down on her toes for a millisecond and dropped into a jaw-dropping split.

 

“Whoa!” Ladybug gasped.

 

“She’s so rad, isn’t she?” Reflekta spoke.

 

They watched somewhat transfixed as she followed through her routine, now a mix between cheerleading and acrobatics. She lept into the air, spun, bent backwards, all with so much grace that left more than half of the audience speechless.

 

When PF finally rejoined them, Lady Wifi took it as a go sign to take the stage. Her shirt fluttered around her as she covered each tile with her footprints. Folding her shoulders in and over herself, popping it back with an audible thump of heels, her enthusiasm was in another world that even Ladybug had never seen before. It was vivid from the way she would holler at the crowd around her, whip her arms and glide her feet.

 

She strode to the middle of the circle, bringing home a few more numbers until she dropped to the floor and froze just as the speakers went silent. Fingers poised in front of her plump lips, she blew a kiss towards the small group of judges atop the platform. Bubbler in turn made a show of catching it, stowing it in a pocket, and winking.

 

Lady Wifi barked a laugh, music playing once again and queuing her last few moves.

 

Then came Reflekta, their shy comrade. But she was nowhere to be seen.

 

Because the Reflekta that did at least four flips in under two seconds was not their usual, gothic classmate anymore. The Reflekta that had bent backwards, fingers touching the back of her shoe without a mid-pause in her attempt to do so, was not their self-conscious companion anymore. The Reflekta that had managed to balance herself on one hand while her body levitated upwards and into a perfect, vertical line, was not the Reflekta that had entered the club with them.

 

This Refkekta was a  _ beast. _

 

She was almost deaf to the onslaught of whistles and claps that everyone was throwing at her. Even the DJs above them were on the edge of their toes, screaming encouragements into their microphone and practically making multiple ears bleed from the sheer volume. And yet Reflekta kept going, kept persisting. She used her free hand to spin herself, legs kicking out from time to time as she battled gravity and her own timid shell.

 

PF was on the verge of tears when the purple-streaked girl almost skipped towards them, the two sharing a tight, wordless hug.

 

Down to their last fifteen seconds, Ladybug pursed her lips and jumped into the fray. 

 

Seeing those three giving it their all, dancing their hearts out like they had always wanted to do, it gave her the epitome of strength she didn’t realize she needed until then. It was as if she had taken an ecstasy pill, her heartbeat rivaling the music and her mind slowing down. She could see every move that she made in slow motion, every vein that pulsed beneath her sweat-coated skin.

 

Her little frame timbered to the right, and without using much technique, she stood on the top of her head, ankles crossed in the air and arms spread wide, pausing in that pose for a second in a freeze. She rolled to the ground with the warm company of cheers.

 

“Daaaang.” Copycat whooped. “I think we’ve got a keeper here, folks! Lucky Charm, don’t be a stranger and get your sexy asses back here next week! You’re movin’ on to the next round!”

 

The four girls screamed, PF being the most giddy as she initiated their first victory hug in their long journey of battles. They made it. They’ve made their first step. They were going to come back.

 

“I can’t believe we made that big of an impression,” Reflekta breathed as they walked towards the far wall. “I mean, sure, we’re not so terrible, but their applause for us was much louder than the other teams.”

 

“Believe it, sister.” Lady Wifi sighed and leaned her back on the smooth concrete behind her. “We blew them away on our  _ first night _ . Think about it; with more practice and teamwork, there’s nobody that could beat us!”

 

“Whoa, hold your horses, internet girl,” Ladybug butted in. “We’ve only seen a third of them. We can’t have our prides exploding out our caution. Besides,” Ladybug thumped the redhead’s arm, “you’ll jinx us if you let your big mouth go on a rampage.”

 

“Fine!” Lady Wifi whined. “Jeez, can’t you let a girl celebrate?”

 

“We  _ can _ celebrate. Boasting is another thing.”

 

“Alright,  _ mom _ .”

 

“Oh! We can celebrate tomorrow!” PF exclaimed excitedly. “At lunch. I’ll bring a bunch of snacks, too!”

 

“That’s a good plan. Plus, we could take the chance to, you know, get some things covered. Team connection and all that.”

 

“Okay. Tomorrow.” PF glanced at her phone. “Oh no, it’s so late already. My parents are going to kill me!”

 

“What?” Reflekta squeaked. “Where are they? Are they waiting?”

 

“I think my mom’s been out front for awhile…”

 

“Wait a second!” Ladybug interjected. “Your parents  _ know  _ that you’re here?”

 

“Huh? Well, of course. They’re giving Reflekta a ride home as well. Her dad’s working overtime so he couldn’t make it tonight.”

 

“Yeah, and speaking of home,” Reflekta grabbed her friend’s hand, “we really should get going. Catch you guys later, okay?”

 

Once the pair blended in the crowd, Lady Wifi stretched and yawned. “I should head back, too. My little sisters can only cover me for so long,” she said. “Wanna walk together?”

 

“Um. No, that’s okay. I think I’ll stick around here for a bit.”

 

“Wha- you sure? It’s eleven.”

 

“Yeah.” Her gaze roamed to the side, in search of black and green. “I’m gonna check out a few more teams, is all. You go on ahead.”

 

“Well… I really do have to go.” Lady Wifi placed a hand on her shoulder. “Text me when you get home.”

 

“Will do,  _ mom. _ ”

 

With a snort and a wave, she ducked out of view.

 

And it was just Ladybug.

 

“I can spare a few more minutes,” she mumbled. “No big deal, no big deal. I’m just interested in his moves.”

 

A flash of cat ears caught her eye, and she tensed when she saw him hanging around the seats near the bar. Gathered with him at one table was probably his teammates.

 

“I’m just interested in his moves,” she repeated softly.

 

With her back turned, she was oblivious to the lingering stare he shot her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we've got Cataclysm bringing the house down!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the Ladynoir folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the slow update! Blame homework

Ladybug swished a mouthful of orange juice around her tongue, half to busy her mind and half to relieve the building tension in her brain. The ice in her glass floated motionlessly above the liquid, its coldness seeping into her fingertips and yet again distracting her from time. Downing the rest of her drink, she thanked the bartender and hopped of the stool, but her feet refused to move. Or rather, they refused to bring her closer to the team performing some meters away.

 

It was not, however, the team that she was looking for. It was the eleventh team, and from the sound of cheers vibrating throughout the club she could deduct that they were also a hard candidate to battle with, though she did not have the desire to watch. Which was strange, of course, because she had initially decided to stay as  _ to  _ watch the remaining teams. Yes, she wouldn’t stay for that long and, yes, it was impossible to study each and every dancer being that there were dozens of them lining around, but she was literally not giving a care. She was blatantly ignoring the others, completely engrossed in her own little bubble of aloofness.

 

It was a good thing that Alya wasn’t there to investigate her actions, because if she was, then she would have easily caught on that her best friend had told a white lie in front of her own squad.

 

Another part of her chided that it wasn’t a  _ total _ lie, as she really was going to watch their competitors for research. It was just that she only had one team in mind.

 

The twelfth team was already making their rowdy way into the spotlight by then.

 

She took a deep breath, bounced a couple of times on her toes, and strode down the steps towards the dance floor. The crowd had broken away some, so there was enough space for her to squeeze through. She scanned the audience’s faces, trying to pinpoint black cat ears, but nothing came to view.

 

Her mind was once again screaming at her to go home, to rest and prepare for the next day, but her curiosity blew out what little logic she had left. It was ironic, in a way, because her curiosity was not going to kill the cat, but herself. Yet, she was still hoping that said cat would give her the satisfaction needed to bring her back. 

 

She winced when the dancer before her failed to do his flip, the poor boy landing on his back harshly and yelping in pain. She reached out a hand to help him, but her support was left hanging as his teammates were swifter in hoisting him up and over to their huddled group.

 

“Ooohh, that’s gotta hurt,” Bubbler was saying. “Sorry guys, but that was a fail. Put an ice pack on that bruise and come back here next time!”

 

She frowned sympathetically at them, praying soundlessly that the guy didn’t break anything more than his pride. Soon enough, though, her attention was brought back to the center where the next team was striding around in circles, like lions searching for their next meal.

 

Chat Noir stood amongst the predator-like group, teeth bared and hands clawing at the air. Ladybug straightened her posture, keeping herself hidden between the few people at the front row while at the same time maintaining her line of vision. She  could now see his buddies more clearly, but whether that was a good thing or not, she couldn’t answer.

 

Her mysterious feline friend was obviously leading the pack, but the other members didn’t fall under his dominative shadow. One of them was a larger male, his red sleeveless hoodie hugging his frame so tightly that she could outline every muscle in his abdomen. If that didn’t prove his impressive physique, then his exposed biceps certainly did him justice. Curving around his lower arm was like UV ink, fashioned into a design of arrows raining down from a blotch of storm clouds. His blond hair was spiked and cut into a mohawk, a few locks curling over his red-and-black mask. 

 

Another one was also male, shorter this time, but his dark skin completely brought out the brightness of his green attire. Or so she thought, but with closer examination, she realized that his clothes  _ were _ glowing, like Lady Wifi’s bracelets, only much brighter and noticeable. He wore a green shirt with sharp black lines decorating his sleeves, crisscrossing like blades, and knee-length pants, the front of it adorning the same pattern, completed with black shoes, glowing green socks, and giant, triangular shades. To put it simply, he was a human glowstick.

 

The last member made her the most scared. Funnily enough, it was a girl that couldn’t have been taller than Rose. Her bright pink hair was strikingly beautiful, a backwards cap holding half of her mane down, and a thick black band that connected to a pair of goggles. The glass was tinted thickly with green, and Ladybug wondered for a moment if the girl could even see with it on. Well, she must’ve had great body control, because from the way she was gliding across the floor, she didn’t seem to be walking like the others. Instead, she was riding on a pair of wheels strapped into the heels of her shoes. Her clothes bore the aura of a biker, completely black saved for a few stripes of color on the arms and cuffs. Jacket slung over her shoulder, she produced a pink bubble from between her lips and popped it, chewing the gum loudly and turning away.

 

When they halted their intimidation round, the judges ushered them to huddle up at the corner. “Alright, Cataclysym! I am totally digging that opening walk.” Bubbler whistled.”We’ve got some trouble in the Akuma tonight, folks!”

 

A chorus of claps and cat calls joined in his enthusiasm.

 

“Show us some moves, tigers!”

 

A rapper was chanting about inappropriate debauchery when the team’s first member stepped out. It was the big guy with the strange tattoos. Jumping up, he showed off a freaky expression coupled with an over-the-top freeze in mid air, and when his feet touched the ground, it was like a clap of thunder had been produced from the soles of his sneakers. If possible, his power exceeded even Alya’s in comparison. While her fiery friend was a red ball of static and charisma, this guy was a hurricane of brutal force. He was a gifted b-boy, shown vividly from how well his posture was and how every throw of his body was a snap of a finger for him.

 

His arms were his most talented instruments. Well, it wasn’t much of a surprise. He easily hoisted himself up on his hands and not miss a single beat as he spun and slashed. The UV ink exposed his moves in a different way, not just a wave of a routine but something more thrilling. It accented his dance like how jewelry could make any girl shine brighter.

 

Next up was glowstick boy. He wasn’t as tough or hubristic as his friend, but he was not below him. If robots had souls, then this guy must’ve been possessed by one. She had seen many performers doing those moves, and yet none of them could have held a candle to the competitor before her. It was as if invisible bolts were holding him together instead of muscles, each difficult twist and bend of his body not breaking a single screw.

 

His costume certainly helped bringing things to life. What was previously a green shirt now faded out into black, popped into a stunning blue ocean, and back again to green, only this time, spelled at the center was the word “GAMER” in bright yellow. He finished it all with a final shake of his lower arms, like a machine being unplugged from its power source. Soon enough, his body was fluid like a human again and he strolled back to his companions.

 

The girl wasted none of their precious time as she rolled into action. Ladybug still couldn’t comprehend how someone could dance with wheels stuck to their shoes, but this person showed no difficulty at all. It was like the world was an ice rink to her, floating around and gliding across the tiles without a hiccup in her step. She was also a powerhouse, she noticed, but her jabs and flips were more controlled, more contained. This pinkette had serious style, something that crossed between street dancing and ice skating. Not too elegant like a ballerina, but also not too extreme like a breaker. Whatever her theme was called, everyone was loving it.

 

With a final spin on her heels and a pop of her gum, she skated back. 

 

Ladybug kept to her hiding spot as Chat Noir sauntered over. Green eyes sharp underneath his hood, he flashed them all a small smirk before he bent back and flipped. For a fraction of his time limit, he focused more on spinning and keeping momentum, switching from his palms to his head and back again until he hopped back to his feet. His moves were fast, matching the beat perfectly, and it was a certainty that he was far more agile than his crew. His steps were quieter, but not weak in the slightest. Fingers, wrists, elbows, ankles - they all contributed to his routine in such harmony that you would have thought that he had created the music himself. He knew when to show off more challenging moves, when to slow some paces to let the audience breathe in his aura.

 

He was even better when the spotlight was above him, Ladybug thought with a chill.

 

When the music spluttered to a halt, Chat Noir bowed, hissed like a cat that had won an alley brawl, and strode confidently back to his members.

 

The judges clapped first, followed by a roaring wave of hoots and screams. It lasted quite long, almost blocking out the dull beat of the stereo completely, until Copycat held up a fist to summon order. It was Bubbler who laughed into the microphone. “ Ooohhh, shit,” he muttered. “You other teams are in for a hell of a time, cuz Cataclysm is gonna run this place down like a pack of wolves!” He pointed an eager finger at their direction. “Do Paris a favor and come back for the next round!”

 

Despite the dark makeshift mask coating his features, Ladybug could still catch the beams of pride and relief reflecting off Cataclysm’s team leader’s eyes. He jumped and punched the air, whooping loudly, and engulfed his three friends in a group hug. Hid onslaught was so abrupt that skater-girl nearly rolled out of balance.

 

Ladybug snickered for a moment and waited for them to exit the circle. She was still shaking her head in awe when the next team started performing.

 

Thinking that the night was much too old for her to bear, she slipped through the throng of people and stepped out into the streets. It was windy, and she was instantly regretting her choice of wardrobe. She cupped both palms around her mouth and exhaled, welcoming the fading warmth that the weather would allow. She jogged past the same police officers from earlier, sparing a few seconds to say hello and bid goodnight, before she once again resumed her journey home.

 

A puff of air and a shiver later, she passed by an alley and was somewhat perplexed to find a gang of young men lurking about the shadows. By their dark clothes and physique, she guessed that they were the same men that she had passed on the way to the club. Why would they still be hanging around in a damp place like that? Just when the thought crossed her mind, one of them suddenly hoisted himself from the wall behind him and took a step forward.

 

Panic clogged her throat in an instant, and she forced her trembling legs to move quicker. She hid her quaking fists in her pockets, focusing on her speed more than anything, and scurried down the empty street as casually and swiftly as possible. But her heightened senses told her dreadfully that someone was in hot pursuit.

 

She dashed. Rationality left her all at once and there was only her frantic jog that barely promised the sanctuary of her home. Part of her wanted to scream for help, but she was too high in fear to heed that advice. Her teeth clattered and her heart slammed painfully against her ribs, silencing everything else but her instinct to get away.

 

Just when she rounded a corner, a hand grasped her upper arm. She shrieked first, and then thrashed against her captor’s hold, until the person shushed her frantically and backed her up against a building. Concrete biting at her back, she attempted to scream again, but another harsh shush and a palm covering her mouth blocked any success of escaping.

 

Filled to the brim with adrenaline, she barely heard what the person was saying to her.

 

“...me! Lady… calm down…”

 

With a final, firm shake, Ladybug’s eyes flew open. She was instantly assaulted with vivid green and black. Heart hammering, she let out a ragged breath. “ _ Minou _ ?” She whimpered.

 

Chat Noir’s mouth quirked up at the corners, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Glad I caught you,” he said.

 

“But…”

 

“I know.” He looked to the right, and then swiftly to the left, as if he had the senses of a hunting animal. His sharp gaze flicked back to her watery one. “What were you  _ thinking _ ? It was reckless to leave on your own like that. Lucky for you, I was faster than those guys.”

 

“Wha- what?”

 

“The ones in the alley. Guess they were up for some bug meat, and one of them was already walking towards you. I ran as fast as I could to get to you first. I suppose they backed away, but we can’t be too sure.” Releasing her, he stepped back and peered around the building, staring at something beyond the corner. When he returned, Ladybug had somewhat gotten ahold of her inner turmoil, rubbing her icy palms down the sides of her pants in an attempt to make them stop twitching.

 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Chat Noir said.

 

Ladybug stared at him. “Not a chance.”

 

His eyebrows shot up through his hair. “Excuse me? Why?”

 

“Because you’d know who I am if you found out my address. Cats are known to be effective stalkers, after all.”

 

He huffed and crossed his arms stubbornly. “Then I’ll take you to your street. I won’t peep, so you can scurry back to your front door safe and hidden.”

 

She was about to protest when Chat Noir approached her and swung a lazy arm around her shoulders. He started to walk with her. “Is it this way, my lady?” He smirked.

 

Ladybug pouted, her index finger poking his left cheek. “So cheeky.”

 

“I aim to serve, and what’s better than a midnight stroll around Paris?”

 

“Sleep.”

 

“Oooh, spicy. The cat in me is purring with satisfaction.”

 

She in turned jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow, but not too hard.

 

After a few paces, they turned to another street. Chat still had her in his grip, and a small part of her enjoyed the company. The previous shock had spilled out and left her, but her nerves were still jangled up in knots. Her steps were heavy, incredibly different from when she was in the Akuma only minutes ago. At one point, she was soaring through the roof with ecstasy, but now it was like her shoes were stuck to the pavement, chaining her down like a caged bird. It was only from Chat’s touch that she could find a little warmth to relax her spirit.

 

But it was fished out of her fingers ten second later when Chat Noir dropped his arm. He let them dangle at his sides, eyes roaming the neighborhood in silence. Ladybug herself clasped her hands behind her back and acted as nonchalant as she could despite her weak energy.

 

“You okay?” He eventually asked.

 

She shrugged, not really looking him in the eye. “I’m fine.”

 

“I didn’t mean to pounce on you like that. Instinct just kicked in, and I didn’t really think. I’m sorry.”

 

She smiled up at him, pleased with his words. “I should be thanking you, Chat Noir. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know, I might not even be walking home right now. So. Thanks.”

 

He grinned. She scoffed.

 

“What, are you expecting an affectionate scratch on the head or something?” Ladybug giggled.

 

“Oh, well, now that you’ve  _ minou _ -ntioned it.”

 

She wanted to retort, or at least give a smart comeback, but she came out blank. She merely let her gaze wander to him, all of him, and got lost in how dark he was with his mask. He was a tightly closed book, she realized, but the little snippets that he would drop made her curious. And she decided to experiment with their boundaries.

 

Reaching out a hand, she pulled back his hood, setting free a yellow flame of blond hair. He opened his mouth, probably asking her what she was doing, but she cut him off with a small tug at the back of his head. She let her fingers tangle in his messy mane, a little surprised to find it soft and thick, and glided her dull fingernails over his scalp in a steady dance.

 

His green eyes drooped, and he leaned to her touch, a quiet moan jumping out of his throat.

 

Laughing lightly, she pulled back. “Okay, there ya go. Happy?”

 

He blinked, not entirely focused yet, but when his pupils zoned in her sickly innocent expression, he glared. “You evil bug,” He hissed.

 

She showed off her pearly whites for him to loathe before she placed her attention to their route. She led him down a smaller road to their right.

 

Again, he broke the silence. “What’s your name?” He suddenly asked.

 

Ladybug sidestepped a puddle before flickering her blue eyes his way. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that question, Chat.” She commented.

 

The boy chuckled. “And you never answer me.”

 

“I do. I  _ did _ .” She furrowed her brows. “Or are you actually asking for my real name?”

 

Chat Noir tilted his head back, gaze locked on the constellations above. “Purr-haps.”

 

Ladybug barked out a laugh, but it died quickly. “You know we can’t tell each other.”

 

“I know. But I’ve got nine lives, so I’ll see to it that I figure you out before I lose them all in this competition.”

 

This awakened a spark of protectiveness in her. “So you can have me out of the game, is that it?” She asked.

 

“No.” He smiled and winked at her. “So I know what to call you outside of the club.”

 

She lowered her eyes at his words, not buying any of his bullshit.

 

Chat Noir raised his hands defensively. “I’m serious. If I happen to know who you are under all that paint, I won’t go s-cat-tering it about. Cat’s honor.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she hopped in front of him and stopped him in his tracks with a strong hand to his chest. “This is as far as you go, Chat,” she said.

 

“Wha-”

 

“This is my street,” she clarified. “So, as promised, you turn around, no funny business, and go straight home.”

 

He sighed forlornly, a dramatic hand on his forehead. “I weep at your departure, my lady.”

 

“I mean it, Chat.” She pressed. “I don’t want to be thrown out of the battle, not until I win. Keep your nosy whiskers where they’re supposed to be.”

 

“Don’t worry, Ladybug.” He gave her a two-fingered salute. “I swear you can trust me. I won’t dig for information that you’re not willing to give. As long as you do the same, of course.”

 

“What makes you think I want to know who you are?”

 

A flash of teeth, and then an echoing sound, “Because we could be partners someday.”

 

Mouth agape, she stared at him, and her curiosity grew inevitably bigger. But he once again didn’t give her the time to put the pieces together as he turned his back and waved goodnight.

  
She stayed glued on her feet a few moments longer, eyes boring holes onto his back, until she decided that rest was more important than her confusion. Patting the dirt inside one of the potted plants outside the bakery, she produced a spare key and soundlessly unlocked the front door. After a shower, a quick sweep around the house, and a toss and a turn later, she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little rushed T_T  
> Anyways, hope you guys liked it! Now you know Cataclysm's team members, and we got to see some adorkable flirting! Stay tuned x3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I'm back.
> 
> Btw, there are a few terms in this chapter that you may not know, and if you're tired of looking it up, check the notes below.

Marinette fished a potato chip from Rose. “So,” she started slowly. “Lucky Charm squad.”

 

“How do we even start this sort of thing?” Alya snorted. “Do we print out files, put them in binders, and spread them out?”

 

“I prefer portfolios!” Rose chirped.

 

Marinette laughed shortly. “Come on, guys. I mean, I know it sounds kinda weird to… introduce ourselves, what with being classmates and all. But roll with it. Let's start talking about how we got into dancing.” She gestured to Alya. “Do the honors, sister.”

 

Alya cracked her fingers in front of her and smirked. “Buckle up, kids, Aunt Alya’s telling you a story.” Rose and Juleka leaned in closely, a glint of fascination in each of their eyes. “Well, Mari and I started out pathetic.” Marinette giggled. “We were wobbling on so many eight counts. We had no rhythm, like, completely clueless with how limbs worked, ya know?”

 

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Get to the good part.”

 

“Shush shuuuush.” Alya waved a dismissive hand. “Anyways, Marinette was the worst-” a kick to the leg “-ow! I was gonna say, 'at salsa’!”

 

“Sure, you were.”

 

“Aaaaanyways. Our biggest influence was YouTube. At first, we learned the same style, from the same videos, but then we thought, 'well, screw this. This isn’t for me’.”

 

“You didn't like the teachers in the videos?” Rose guessed.

 

“No. It was more like me and Mari had different tastes. I liked fast and intimidating moves. She liked complicated moves. So, a few months later, we learned separately. I got into urban and krumping, with a bit of ladies style. Mari went for breakdancing and hip-hop.”

 

“That's so cool!” Rose clapped. “I think those styles suit you a lot!”

 

“What about you guys?” Marinette asked. “Your dance styles are so… unique. Like, it’s a mix of so many things that I can't even comprehend it all.”

 

“You’re right about that,” Juleka said. “My mom’s a contortionist. She taught me a lot during elementary school. Then I went to a ballet studio, where I first met Rose.” Rose nodded happily. “And then during middle school, I leaned a bit more towards gymnastics.”

 

“She was very good at it!” Rose smiled. Juleka blushed. “As for me, I joined the cheerleading squad. And during these last few months, we’ve been learning hip-hop.”

 

“Way too much on our plate, honestly.” Juleka tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “But dancing has been a passion for us, too. We love learning new styles.”

 

“That’s actually really awesome!” Alya beamed. “You know, with so much diversity…”

 

“We actually make an interesting team.” Marinette grinned.

 

Juleka bit into her apple and hummed. “And interesting mixes in choreography.”

 

“Oh yeah!” Alya fished out her phone, a new kind of sparkle in her eyes. “Check this place out.” She showed Juleka and Rose the same website that she had shown Marinette the day before. “How about if we practiced here? Say, every night at ten?”

 

“Whoa, Alya,” Marinette chided. “You gotta be more sensitive. They're both girls and we can't just ask them to go out every night like-”

 

“Oh, but we don't mind!” Rose interrupted. “Both of our parents are very supportive of this!”

 

Marinette blinked. “Oh.”

 

“If only we had that much slack.” Alya took a sip of her soda and laughed. “But hey, no problems then! So, we start practicing tonight.  _ With _ our masks.”

 

“What?”

 

She shrugged and popped another can of soda from Rose. “I called the place this morning. They said that the hide-your-identities rule also applies there.”

 

“That's weird.” Marinette hummed thoughtfully. “You think one of the DJs runs the place?”

 

“I hope not.” Juleka fidgeted with her glove, her eyes downcast. “I-I slip up a lot during practice.”

 

“Not to worry!” Alya elbowed her, grinning. “The beauty of wearing a mask is that nobody knows who we are, so we get to be anybody we want.”

 

Marinette smiled at first, but then faltered. Her eyes widened considerably, her cheeks reddened, and she made a slight  _ eep!  _ sound.

 

Alya didn’t bat an eye. Still scrolling through her phone, eyes fixed on the screen, she asked dumbly, “Is Adrien across the field?”

 

“Yes…?” Juleka mumbled as Marinette tried to hide behind her.

 

Rose sighed dreamily, her chin propped on her knuckles. “Love is such a beautiful thing.”

 

~0~0~

 

Marinette adjusted the buds of her earpiece onto her ears, music blasting. It was almost closing time and she was in charge of cleaning up.

 

As she was sweeping, head nodding to the beat of the song, she didn't hear the bell chime until a hand tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

 

“Yeah, papa, I’m almost done with-” Marinette squeaked loudly when she turned around. “A-A-Aaadrien?!”

 

He smiled sheepishly and waved. He opened his mouth, but no words were processed by her. Seeming to notice her frozen state, he plucked one of her earbuds out and said, “Marinette?”

 

The girl let out a shaky breath. “Uh?”

 

He plucked the other bud out and chuckled. “Sorry to disturb you. But can I get a few croissants? I know it's late but umm…”

 

“Sure!” Marinette yelped. “Yeah, yeah, course of! Uh, of course! No- no problem.” In a rush, she dropped her broom, which fell to the floor with a loud plunk. She contemplated between picking it up or not for a few seconds, but seeing his puzzled face, she decided to escape to the far end of the shop and pick up half a dozen pastries from the shelves.

 

“Will this do?” Marinette smiled awkwardly behind the cash register.

 

Adrien not-so-subtly sniffed the baked goods and sighed in delight. 

 

Marinette abruptly snorted at his funny expression. She hid her giggle behind her hand.

 

Adrien looked up at her with his nose still hovering over the croissants. “What?”

 

“You look cute.” Marinette giggled again. But then she stopped and slapped her mouth. “I-I mean, uh! Not  _ cute _ cute, I just meant that you- you umm… you’re making this face that’s umm…”

 

Adrien poked his cheeks and puckered his lips in mock confusion. “Oh, this ol face?”

 

She stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “No, no, more like this.” She imitated the way he was smelling the food, but with louder sniffing noises, but it was hard to do while laughing.

 

Adrien joined her in no time at all, both of their guffaws bouncing off the walls in a happy harmony.

 

Just then, Tom strode over from the hallway. “Marinette, are you- oh, Adrien!” He clapped the boy’s shoulder. “What a pleasant surprise!”

 

“Hello, sir.” Adrien said between chuckles. 

 

Tom looked from him to his daughter, who was pouting visibly, her blue eyes darting to the side repeatedly. “Ohh!” Tom said out loud. “Err, I mean,  _ ohh _ I have to… go back there now.” And with that, Tom side-stepped to where he came from. A second later, his head poked out. “Do you kids want some snacks?”

 

“Papa!” Marinette wailed.

 

Tom disappeared once more.

 

Marinette turned back to her guest, scratching the back of her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about him. I uhh… I’m so glad you came. Can I get you anything else?”

 

“No, these are fine.” Paying her, he added, “I would love to stay, but I have to get going.”

 

“Oh?” Marinette couldn't help but feel disappointed. “Do you, err, have a photoshoot today?”

 

“No, thank God.” He shuffled from one foot to another before finally saying, “I’m going to meet up with some friends after this.”

 

“At this hour?”

 

“Yeah. It's uh… a model thing. Meeting. Uhh,” he coughed, “yeah, I’m very sorry, but I  _ really _ should go.”

 

Marinette hid her sadness with a slight nod of her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

He nodded “Tomorrow.” As he was going, hand resting on the doorknob, he turned his head around to say something, but his mouth was left ajar.

 

Marinette followed his line of sight and was horrified to see  _ both  _ of her parents peeking out from the corner. “Papa!  _ Mom _ ?!”

 

Sabine laughed like a bell before pulling her husband out of sight. Although, their quiet croons were still audible. Marinette groaned, appalled. “ _ Ahem. _ ”

 

A few thumps and a giggle later, the room was silent. When she was sure that they were gone, she turned back to Adrien. His dumbstruck face was so endearing, Marinette thought with an even dumber smile.

 

“Err… anyways.” Adrien waved awkwardly. “Yeah. Have a good night.”

 

As soon as the door clicked shut, her love spell broke and she was back to reality. 

 

She turned on her heel and went for the hallway. “You  _ guuuys _ !”

 

~0~0~

 

“Um.” Lady Wifi raised an eyebrow at her phone screen, squinted her eyes, and finally scratched her head in confusion. “I think… this is the place?”

 

It couldn’t be.

 

Because in front of the four girls was a building that seemed to be older than their grandparents combined. The paint was yellowed, green moss littering the corners and rivers of cracks winding across the middle. A window was shattered, with a shape in the glass that indicated a stone was thrown through it. At one side of the wall, there were crude writings, most likely the work of bored teens, and a bit of amateur graffiti. The sign,  _ Miraculous Steps _ , was missing a few letters, the rest already fading into age. 

 

In the distance, they heard a dog bark, followed by a cat hissing and a trashcan falling.

 

Rose shivered, but not from the cold air. “Are you sure?” She murmured.

 

“It looks like it's abandoned.” Ladybug mused. She took a few steps forward, eyes trained on the door as if she expected a huge thug to come out of it. “Hello?” She shouted. “Anyone here?”

 

“Ladybug!” Wifi gasped. “Don’t!”

 

“I hear something,” Juleka whispered abruptly. A moment passed until a faint, but still piercingly audible, lock clicking was heard from the other side of the door.

 

Ladybug scrambled, screaming, and picked up a pitiful stick off the pavement. Her small weapon in hand, she held it over her head, ready to strike.

 

A dark figure swung open the door.

 

Ladybug blinked.

 

Standing in the doorway was an old man, nearly half her height, with a Hawaiian shirt that was too red to match his grey hair. His long mustache twitched with the movement of his smile. “Welcome,” he said in a relaxing, soft voice, as if he was ready to serve them tea.

 

Ladybug smiled, until she remembered her stick, and hastily brought it behind her back, smiling unnecessarily bigger afterwards. Rose peeked from over Juleka’s shoulder before retreating again to the comfort of her friend’s shadow.

 

It was Lady Wifi who composed herself first and asked, “Who are you?”

 

“I am Fu.” He bowed politely, with the girls mimicking his movements, if not a bit unsurely. “I run this humble facility. And you are Lucky Charn, I presume?”

 

“Yes, we are.” Ladybug stepped forward and shook his hand. “I’m the team captain, Ladybug. And these are my friends; Lady Wifi, Princess Fragrance, and Reflekta.”

 

“Um, if I may ask, sir…” PF mumbled. “Is this really Miraculous Steps, like on the website?”

 

“Yeah, like, no offense,” Lady Wifi eyed the building, a grimace gracing her face, “it does  _ not _ look like the ad at all.”

 

“I tell Plagg to renew the pictures multiple times, but he is, how do you say, quite a potato couch.” He shook his head and chuckled. “But it is not fake. It is - was - Miraculous Steps when it was much younger, with crowded studios and energetic youths. Now, it is just a home.”

 

“Who’s home?” Reflekta asked.

 

“Mine. And a few others, as well.” He opened the door wider, revealing a lit threshold beyond it. “Come.”

 

When he disappeared inside, the girls were left baffled and confused. They all looked at each other, a silent discussion rattling between them, before Ladybug shrugged. “We made it this far.”

 

“It looks scary.” PF shuddered. 

 

“Don't worry.” Reflekta patted her head gently. “I’ll warn you guys if I see a ghost.”

 

“That doesn't make me feel better.” Ladybug sighed. “Wifi, you have the police on speed dial, right?”

 

The girl held up her phone. “Yup.”

 

“I still think that it’s scary.” PF murmured as they entered.

 

While the outside looked cold and unused, the inside looked neat. The lights were working fine. No blood stains on the walls - just a few photographs that consisted of different groups of people. The room that they were in was barren, saved for a high desk, like a receptionist’s, a couch, and a door. Hesitantly, Ladybug turned the knob and led them down a narrow hallway. No furniture, but more photographs were lined here. Some were black and white, some were faded, and some looked a bit new. The air was vibrating with an unknown beat, like a DJ was playing at the other side of the wall.

 

Fu was waiting for them at the far end, next to a door with a sign that said “DANCERS ONLY”.

 

“Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this seemed super rushed! Well, now that we've got the intro out of the way, we can finally get to the dancing :D
> 
> And also! If you're the, very specific and detailed kind of person, I suggest you skip the following. If not, then get ready for some super crappy definitions!
> 
> Krumping : It's a really powerful style of dancing. You jab and thrust your arms a lot and you stomp your feet until your bones literally ring. 
> 
> Ladies style : Bring out your inner hoe in this style. A very sexy and sensual dance that not only blows the minds of boys (and girls) but also boosts your confidence.
> 
> Breakdancing : The kind of dance you see in the streets where they spin on their hands and heads. This dance calls for a lot of endurance because they may seem fluid and easy, but in reality you spend most of your time training your arms and balance.
> 
> Hip-hop : The most common modern dance style with much swag, much wow. Just go nuts.
> 
> Urban : Kinda like hip-hop in general, but the moves are very fast where you literally have no time to think about it, and they're very pronounced.
> 
> Contortionist : A boneless person, tbh.


End file.
